100 Ways You Can Love Your Wife HER Way
by TB's LMC
Summary: This is the companion to my story "100 Ways You Can Love Your Husband His Way," only this time one of 'em is always going to be the girl…at least, in theory. There's cursing. Steve and Danny, heavy bromance, no slash. Sometimes serious, sometimes funny.
1. Ways 1 and 2

_Author's Note: With sincerest apologies to Romance Between the Lines, because I'm 100% certain this is NOT at all what they had in mind with their article "100 Ways You Can Love Your Wife HER Way" found here: .com/site/476224/page/222704. I loved doing all the (mostly) unrelated short stories in my "100 Ways You Can Love Your Husband HIS Way" and "Why Navy SEALs are Men's Sexual Heroes," so I needed to do some more! Enjoy the new ride!_

_Summary: This is the companion to my story "100 Ways You Can Love Your Husband His Way," only this time one of 'em is always going to be the girl…at least, in theory. Yes, there's cursing. Steve and Danny, heavy bromance, no slash._

* * *

><p><strong>100 Ways You Can Love Your Wife HER Way<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Way 1<br>Communicate with her; never close her out.**

"Well how was I supposed to know that, Steven, huh? You with the…all the damn…military bullshit hand signals and everything, like I'm somehow supposed to know what that means?"

"I would've thought for someone like you, hand signals would've been the _most_ effective way of communication."

"Someone like me, he says. Someone like—what the hell does that even mean? Like me what?"

"Nothing, you just talk with your hands a lot."

"No, no, I don't talk with my hands, I talk with my mouth. My lips. My voice. Like _normal_ people, Steven, which I just have to stop and point out here that _you_, my friend, are _not_. If I communicated with my hands I'd be doing sign language, and this, this is not sign language. What you did back there is not sign language, it's something fucked up that only Navy SEALs understand, and I am not a Navy goddamn SEAL!"

"You said Navy!"

"This is what he chooses to latch onto. It's just one more line in the massive chalking up I am doing on an invisible wall inside my head that proves you are certifiably insane."

"We still caught the guy."

"Yes, we did catch the guy. We also wound up in the hospital, and I want to know how is this my life that the new governor thought us _sharing_ a room would be conducive to a rapid recovery on my part! Hand signals, Steven, you need to use your _words_, not _hand __signals_!"

"Yes, dear."

"I hate you so much."

"Yes, dear."

"Stop with the yes, dears!"

"Danny, you just used a hand signal."

"I—"

"And it was _not_ American Sign Language."

"No, Steven, it wasn't. That was the universal sign for, 'as soon as I can haul my broken shin bone out of this bed I am going to demonstrate for you that your latest quest for increasing the levels of what-the-fuckery in Detective Danny Williams' life is going to result in an extremely painful recovery period for you, courtesy of said detective.'"

"I thought that particular hand gesture meant 'fuck you.'"

"Steven?"

"Yes, Danny?"

"Fuck you."

"Yes, dear."

* * *

><p><strong>Way 2<br>Regard her as important.**

Steve knows Danny and Gabby have been growing closer and closer. And of course, he's okay with that. He really is. After all, cop partners have wives, families, and they always find time for their partners anyway. Sometimes to the detriment of their families, which is maybe sometimes why – okay, maybe a lot of times why – they wind up divorced or at the very least, hating their spouses.

But that won't happen in this case, Steve knows, because Five-0 is a different animal altogether. They're HPD but they're not, and they may not have full immunity and means anymore, but they still pretty much can do whatever, as long as it's not over the top.

Hell, Denning hadn't even blinked an eye when that building had blown up, or when he'd had to pay for that helicopter use or the horses they confiscated. It's all good, Steve knows this. But it's hard to keep 'it's all good' in mind when you approach the doors to your own lanai, knowing that your partner – who has yet to find his own apartment, for the love of all things unholy, and therefore is still camping out on your couch – was going to bring his girlfriend over for a barbecue…hold on, what's the point again?

Oh, yes…when you overhear your partner, the guy who has your back, covers your ass and just generally puts everything on the line to keep you alive every day is saying, "You are the most important thing in my life. I never knew what love really meant until I met you."

Steve's eyes widen as he comically and literally skids to a halt just inside the lanai doors.

"The first time I laid eyes on you, I was tongue-tied like I'd never been my whole life."

Okay, yes, Steve remembers Danny's tongue being very well-tied indeed, possibly into several knots all at once, the first time he saw Dr. Asano at the museum.

"I thought, I have never seen anyone more beautiful, more perfect."

Wow. Danny's got it worse than Steve ever suspected. Holy shit.

"And the one thing I've wanted since the day I met you was to hold you and kiss you all over and never let you go."

Steve frowns. He wonders if buttoned-up by-the-book Danny is thinking about trying sex in Steve's back yard. In public. No. Couldn't be. Um…could it?

"But you know that as much as I want to be with you twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, sweetheart, I can't because Steve needs me, too."

Wait…what?

He hears a female voice say something unintelligible.

"That's right, of course I love him, not quite as much as I love you, but you know, guys like me and Steve don't hug and squeeze and tickle and kiss like you and I do."

Wait…_what_?

"You're very important to me, and Steve is, too. And that means sometimes we'll be doing things together, not just the two of us anymore. All right?"

Steve isn't sure he wants to be a third wheel on trips to wherever it is Danny thinks is worthy of Jersey-like dates. He can well imagine winding up at a bowling alley or watching some cheesy chick flick on a Friday night, and groans at the thought of having to endure—

"Okay, now why don't you go in and ask Steve if you can use his bed?"

Wait…what?

"_Uncle __Steve_!" a little girl's voice shrills, and suddenly Steve finds himself tackled to the floor by an overly enthusiastic ten-year old Grace Williams.

Oh.

_Oh_.

Danny appears in the doorway, takes in the scene, and starts laughing his ass off.

As Steve is getting the stuffing hugged out of him, he replays what he overheard of Danny's side of the conversation in the _proper_ context of the fact that he was saying those things to his _daughter_ and not his _girlfriend_.

Grace has managed to extract his approval for her to use his bed as a Barbie play area, and is soon off and pounding up the stairs like the herd of elephants only a young child can be.

Suddenly, Steve feels very much like the guy with few mammal-to-mammal interaction skills that Danny's always accusing him of being. Yeah. This is one of those funny little moments of misunderstanding in life that Steve is never _ever_ going to tell Danny about.

But Steve's pretty sure it's not only in his head that the way Danny's looking at him means his partner knows _exactly_ what Steve had thought while eavesdropping. The last word Danny has on the subject, as he offers Steve his hand to help him off the floor, pretty much confirms that.

"Goof."


	2. Ways 3 and 4

**Way ****3  
>Do <strong>**everything ****you ****can ****to ****understand ****her ****feelings.**

"And you always say _I__'__m_ the emotionally constipated one."

"You _are_."

"And yet, we wouldn't be in this mess if you'd just told her how you feel."

"How am I supposed to do that, Steven, when even _I_ don't know how I feel?"

"You mean after finding out that she, like every other damn woman we seem to encounter these days, is working for Wo Fat, you _still_ don't know how you feel?"

"No, I meant _before_…never mind. Just…no, no, don't grab _there_, Steve, dammit."

"Seriously, Danny, I want to know. I mean, I know how I felt when I found out Jenna betrayed me—"

"_Us_, Christ, not everything's all about you!"

"And yet it's Wo Fat that both Jenna and Gabby was and/or is working for. Wo Fat who has a fucking vendetta against _me_."

"Okay, first of all, who says 'and/or' in the course of conversation while trying to – ow, _watch_ it! – untie their wrists from their partner's? Second, if I'd just come to the museum on my own tonight to profess my undying love, which I'm not saying I had, mind you, to one Dr. Asano, then she would've just tied _me_ up alone, and thank you very much I do _not_ need to be the butt-end of your next epic guilt trip. Third—"

"Are you done?"

"Does me saying 'third' imply I was done? You have no manners – dammit, would you stop _pinching __me_?"

"Sorry. I can't exactly see what I'm doing here."

"And here I thought you SEALs had eyes in the back of your head."

"No, really, we don't, Danny. We're just as human as the rest of you."

"I beg to differ…oh, hey, hey, the one around my left wrist just loosened up."

"Can you slip it through—?"

"What do you think I'm—?"

"No, Danny, the _other_ w—"

"I _know_ which way, if you'd get your massive pre-_homo __sapien_ hands out of the way!"

"Pre-_homo __sapien_?"

"_Cro __magnon_."

"Gee, thanks, Danny."

"You're welcome."

…

…

"Look, I'm sorry Dr. Asano turned out to be yet another of Wo Fat's pawns, Danny. I truly am."

"Eh, look at the bright side, Partner. Now it's back to just me and your couch."

"Yeah, Danno, about that—"

"Ha, got it! Free!"

"Untie me, Danny, quick, before she gets back."

…

"Danny?"

…

"D?"

"You…what's that…is that a new tattoo?"

"Not _now_, Danny, just untie me so we can get out of here!"

"Steven."

"Danny, not—"

"McGarrett, shut up and explain that tattoo."

"I can't shut up and explain at the same time, make up your mind. Tell you what: you untie me. I'll explain while you untie me."

"Okay, but this better be good."

"Uh…"

"Not encouraging me to untie you."

"It's…a thing."

"A thing. Tattooed to the inside of your left forearm."

"Um…"

"Steve."

"What?"

"You're untied."

"Good, let's see if we can get anything from her desk before we go."

"Steven."

"_What_?"

"Why do you have five names tattooed to your arm, two of which belong to me and my perfect and gorgeous daughter?"

…

"Steve?"

"It's the names of my _ohana_, Danny. That's all. You talk a lot, I say it with tattoos, okay? Hey, what are you—?"

"Mary, Chin Ho, Kono, Danno, Grace."

"What's with that face?"

"A trait I picked up from you. Come on, let's get out of here, Partner."

"But we—"

"Your couch awaits."

"But we should—"

"Gabby and Wo Fat will still be there tomorrow. It's two in the morning, and I have Grace tomorrow. Please. Let's go. _Ohana_ comes first."

"Sorry I, uh, you know, added you two without…you know."

"Don't worry about it. But you have to show it to Grace tomorrow."

"Tomorrow I have to go after—"

"What, your _ohana_ was important enough to get permanently _inked_ into your _skin_ but not important enough to spend time with?"

"That's not it at all."

"Then tell me what _is_ it?"

"I need my _ohana_ to stay _alive_, Danny! I need to find Gabby and get rid of Wo Fat once and for all, or _none_ of the names on my arm will ever be safe! Don't you _get_ that?"

"Yeah, Steve. I get that. But do _you_ get that keeping us all safe doesn't make you expendable?"

…

…

"You got it, knucklehead? Huh?"

"Yeah, Danny, okay. I got it."

"Good. Now get me home before I turn into a goddamn pineapple."

"A pineapple?"

"Hawaiian version of _Cinderella_ as told by one Grace Williams."

"Now _that_, I can't _wait_ to hear!"

"It's pretty interesting. She cast _you_ as Cinderella."

…

"Indignant spluttering is a good look on you, McGarrett."

* * *

><p><strong>Way <strong>**4  
>Be <strong>**interested ****in ****her ****friends.**

"It doesn't strike you as just a _little_ strange that McGarrett wants _me_ to go on this weekend bullshit camping thing with him and his three SEAL buddies?"

"Not really, no. I think Steve's just trying to include you in his circle of friends, that's all."

"Oh. Oh, yes, because the _last_ time I met one of his so-called 'friends,' it turned out spectacularly well, seeing how I wanted to wring the man's neck with my bare hands from the second I laid eyes on him, and Steve had to kill him to stay alive."

"Did you ever think maybe that's why he wants you along this weekend?"

"I don't get it. What do you mean, Chin?"

"Steve doesn't know who he can trust sometimes, and we've all seen what happens when he trusts the wrong people. With Nick Taylor, like you said. Governor Jameson. I mean, Steve's doubting his own father's honor these days, and then once again he almost bought it because he trusted Jenna."

"True."

"Maybe he wants you to go on this camping trip with his former teammates because then at least he knows he'll have someone at his side he can trust for the duration."

"Huh. I hadn't thought of that."

"Cut him a little slack, Danny. And for all our sakes, especially his, watch his back on this one, okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, sure, I can do that. Thanks."

"I got your back, _brah_. And apparently, Steve's chosen _you_ to have his."


	3. Ways 5 and 6

**Way ****5  
>Ask <strong>**her ****opinion ****frequently.**

"What do you think, D?"

Danny raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"You actually _want_ my opinion?"

"I asked, didn't I?"

"That doesn't answer my question."

"I want to know what you think."

Danny turned his head just enough so he could see Chin. Then swiveled it some more so he could look at Kono. The looks on the cousins' faces told him that he wasn't the only one surprised.

"Let me get this straight," Danny said, because there was protocol to be followed here, and Danny was all about protocol, even if it had to do with the way he interacted with his partner rather than police procedure. "You want _my_ opinion," he continued, moving slowly forward like McGarrett was a land mine that might blow at any second, "on _this_," he finished, hand waving around to encompass the entirety of their current situation.

"You don't have to be so melodramatic!" Steve hissed, shifting uncomfortably under the tuxedo jacket he was trying on. "Especially in public."

"Well, no one else would be able to appreciate it if we were in private," Danny countered. "Come to think of it—"

"_Danny_!"

"All right, all right," Danny chuckled, hands pushing air in concession. "I think you look like the groom rather than the guy giving the bride away."

Steve's face fell.

Damn, Danny hated the Pound Puppy look. Got to him as quick as Grace's Sad-Sack Face.

"I don't want to look like I'm competing with Mary's husband-to-be," Steve lamented, frowning at his reflection in the full-length mirror.

"Babe," Danny said, coming to stand by his partner's side, "even in a rucksack, that'd be an impossible feat to achieve."

It took Steve a few moments, but when he finally worked out what Danny had meant by that, he grinned at his partner in the mirror. Danny grinned back, then back-handed Steve's arm as he (unsuccessfully) attempted to turn the grin into a scowl.

"Now hurry it up. It's my turn to get fitted next, and poor Chin's still waiting for _his_ turn."

"Since you very obviously don't want a woman's opinion," Kono said with an eyeroll that threatened to sprain something, "I'll head over to the bridal shop and see how Mary's doing."

"Mr. Kelly?" a man said, approaching the trio.

"That's me," Chin acknowledged, hand going up.

"Sir, Mr. Amalie is available in the second suite if you would care to follow me."

Chin murmured something that sounded suspiciously like, "Thank _God_," as he smiled, nodded and followed the salesman to the opposite corner of the store.

Danny shook his head, and turned back to watch his partner's reflection, Steve fidgeting like the inside of the thing was made of sandpaper, wool and maybe even cut glass.

"What's with you?" Danny asked.

"I feel like an idiot."

"Well, you look like one, too. Now get out of that thing so I can have my go."

"You really don't think it's wrong for the guy giving the bride away to wear a white tuxedo?"

"Well, since she refuses to allow you to wear your dress blues _or_ your dress whites, I think a white tuxedo for the brother of the bride actually makes sense. So no, I don't think it's wrong. What _is_ wrong, however," Danny noted as another tailor, a Mr. Li, approached with a garment bag, "is the fact that you insisted _I_ wear a white one, too."

"What, it's okay for me but not for you?"

"Doesn't look good with my coloring," Danny complained as Mr. Li pulled Danny's tuxedo out of the bag and shook it out. When Mr. Li handed the jacket to him, Danny held it up against his torso and stood next to Steve at the mirror. "See?"

Their eyes met in the reflection. "We're gonna look _good_, D," Steve smirked.

"You think?"

"I _know_."

* * *

><p><strong>Way 6<br>Value what she says.**

"I _do_ listen to you, Danny! I just…I can't change who and what I am overnight, okay?"

Danny sighed. "I know, and I don't _want_ you to change, I just…I can't change who _I_ am, either. Lifelong cop here, you know?"

"Lifelong Navy here."

"Yeah, yeah."

Sighing again, Danny reached out and let his fingertips graze the ripped edges of Steve's shirt that ran from the bottom of the polo's last button almost clear down to the hem. He had a matching gash slicing straight through his flesh, which Danny didn't think would need stitches, but _Christ_, why was it every time something went down, Steve got hurt in some way?

"Hey," Steve said. "It's all good, man." He grabbed the torn sleeve of Danny's dress shirt and rubbed the material between his thumb and forefinger. "Guess I owe you a new shirt."

"Nah," Danny shrugged. "Yours got destroyed, too, so we'll call it even." Then he looked all around them. "Assuming we can get out of this old well before the sides cave in."

"I got it, D, watch," Steve replied, pulling away from his partner and turning his back to him. He got down on one knee and Danny could see his muscles tense until his body was rigid. "Okay, up you go."

"Up I go?" Danny repeated.

"Get on my shoulders," Steve explained. "I'll launch you up, you should be able to grab the concrete lip surrounding the well if I get you high enough."

"You're insane."

"You want to die here?" Steve snapped, turning and glaring at his partner.

"What kind of question is that?"

"One designed to get your cop ass in gear."

Danny narrowed his eyes as Steve looked away and once again steeled himself to be climbed like a tree. "I know what you're doing, and I hate you for it, but this time you might be right."

"Why don't you try it and find out?"

Sighing loudly, Danny untied his shoes and took them off, then tied the laces together and slung them over his shoulder. Steve got as low as he could, and Danny managed to step on Steve's thigh and put a hand on his head to get his feet to Steve's shoulders.

"Okay, first I'm going to get both feet under me," Steve said, grabbing Danny's ankles to steady him. "Then I'm going to crouch down and when I say 'ready,' it means I'm going to put everything I've got into leaping straight up. I'll let go of you as I launch myself, okay?"

"You're going to use 'ready' as a signal?"

"Well, yeah," Steve huffed. "What else would I use?"

Danny looked down along his own chest and stomach and thighs at Steve peeking up at him through his eyelashes. "How about we do it on the count of three?" he asked, fighting a smile.

Steve snorted, then all-out laughed. "Yeah, okay. On the count of three. Partner."

Danny smiled, steadied himself as Steve lifted his knee and brought his other foot under him in a crouch, resting on the balls of both feet. He twitched a little, testing Danny's weight against the strength of his legs.

"One," Steve said, hands growing tighter around Danny's ankles as Danny reached his arms as high into the air as he could.

"Better than staring down the barrel of your gun," Danny quipped, looking up.

"Two," Steve growled, most likely trying not to chuckle.

As soon as he, said, "Three," Steve rocketed his entire self upwards, body lengthening to its full height and making a good three-foot leap straight off the ground. He let go of Danny as he did, resulting in Danny sailing up and up and up. Steve watched breathlessly as Danny neared the top of the well. His hands scrabbled outward and managed to grab the lip of the well's concrete skirt. Danny hit the crumbling stone side of it with a loud, "_Oof_!" but managed to hang on.

"_Danny_!"

"Maybe…we shouldn't…use the count of three…anymore," Danny ground out as he pulled himself up the side of the well, muscles bulging and straining from the effort.

"I don't know," Steve called out as Danny swung a leg high and managed to hoist himself up and out of the well shaft at last. "I think it's the best thing we've ever done."

Danny's head soon peeked back over the edge, hair completely a mess and falling forward to hide a good bit of his forehead and eyes. He flashed Steve a grin. "I think you might have a point. Be right back, partner."

And Steve knew he would.


	4. Ways 7 and 8

**Way ****7  
>Let <strong>**her ****feel ****your ****approval ****and ****affection.**

No one was quite sure when it had developed into a tradition, but every single Christmas since Danny's and Grace's very first in Hawaii, it happened. Five-0, a family which had expanded over the years to include informants and friends like Toast, Kamekona and Max, to new teammates like Lori and this year, the two men who were being groomed – though Steve would never, _ever_ admit it – to take over his and Danny's spots as the lead team of the task force.

So what that he and Danny were sixty-one? Neither was ready to slow down, though you'd never know it by how much Danny complained about how every ache and pain he had was named _Steve_ and was the fault of each one's namesake.

These days the family had expanded even further to include Catherine McGarrett, now married into the family properly, and their two children. It had expanded to include Stan and Rachel and their son, along with Grace, of course. And it also encompassed one Dr. Gabrielle Williams, married to Danny for – _his_ words – not nearly long enough yet, and their two additional children.

Suffice it to say the McGarrett house, especially when Mary and her boyfriend-of-the-month joined them, was overflowing every Christmas Day.

And as the tradition always went, one by one the families and spouses and friends and informants and teammates, would trickle away as the night wore on. Eventually Catherine would go to bed, and Gabby in the spare room, because the wives knew, as they all did, that Christmas Day – which was actually the wee hours of December 26th – had to end with Steve and Danny alone, Longboards in hand, out on the lanai watching darkened waters and listening to the creatures of an Oahu night.

They didn't very often speak, both exhausted from the day's boisterous events, but happy with their lives, their _ohana_, the fact that they were all still here together. Chin and Malia, Kono and Ben. The two new guys, Trace and Ko, and their girlfriends. Lori and Max, and really, the partners had seen _that_ one coming ever since the _Grease_ incident. Catherine and Gabby and Stan and Rachel and all the kids and _their_ kids, those that had them.

Neither man had anything to complain about. Not even, at perfect times like this, Danny. They sprawled in the beach chairs that had been repainted at least three times in the last twenty-seven years. Their knees touched, their breaths came evenly matched, in synch even with something as automatic as inhaling and exhaling.

Catherine had joked that she knew she was marrying Danny just as much as she was Steve, and she'd made sure Gabby understood the reverse was also true. The women enjoyed commiserating about their husbands, both in person or on the phone with Catherine was at sea. But neither would have it any other way.

Presents and wrapping paper and ribbons and cards lay scattered all over the house. In the early years, Danny had tried to get his partner to pick the place up before bed, but eventually he'd given up. Now it happened the next day, McGarretts and Williamses showing up to pitch in and make yet another party out of something as bothersome as day-after clean-up. This year was no different. The Christmas tree was still lit; lights strung along the back of the house bathed Danny and Steve in a multicolored glow.

They were content. If they'd been asked on the day they met over guns in Steve's garage, neither man would have thought it possible. Yet here they were. And when the last drops of beer were drained from their final bottles for the night; when eyes refused to stay open any longer and soft beds and warm women called to them from within the house, the men engaged in one more thing that had become tradition every single year.

Standing halfway between the lanai and the water, the men embraced. For all the firefights they'd lived through, for all the heartaches they'd propped each other up through. For all the joys they had shared and the sorrows that had brought tears to their eyes. For all the weddings and funerals, the changes in governors, the betrayals and the loyalty. But most of all, for the friendship that had never been able to be broken, though many throughout the years had tried.

This was their Christmas hug. Their chance to say what they couldn't with words, and were too stubbornly manful to admit they needed at any other time.

And if their wives watched from a second-floor window, turned to each other with eyes full of unshed tears as they witnessed the private moment, and then followed suit, well…that was their own tradition, too.

After all, these people were family, and the love of their _ohana_ knew no bounds.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: **WARNING** Way 8 contains a <strong>Major <strong>**Character ****Death**. Do not read if this bothers you. You have been warned!_

**Way 8  
>Protect her on a daily basis.<strong>

It's true what they say: that time slows down and even stops altogether in those pivotal moments where life hangs in the balance, when one thing changes everything else. Steve had experienced it one too many times over the course of his childhood with his mother's passing, then with being separated from his family. He'd had it happen way too often while he was with the Navy, both Intelligence and as an active duty SEAL.

It had even happened once or twice – or maybe more times, he'd lost count – in his decade-long tenure with Five-0. So this time, when it happened, it was no surprise. The only unknown that was left nowadays for Steve McGarrett was whether, when Time resumed its natural course again, someone would be dead.

He could see the bullet fly _Matrix_-like from the barrel of the gun. He could almost _taste_ the air parting before it, an unwilling participant in allowing the bullet to stay its course. His breath caught the moment he realized the bullet's intended target: a shock of blond hair already in disarray from the hand-to-hand combat its owner had participated in, and won.

Now the blond head was looking away, moving too slowly as the sound of the shot reverberated throughout the house they'd stormed with HPD. Steve's voice wouldn't work, and he knew that even if he managed to shout Danny's name, it would only swivel his partner's head toward him, rather than moving it out of the way.

And so he did the only thing he could, in the far-too-short nanoseconds that were lengthening into lifetimes in the space of a handful of moments. He had always known he could die on the job, for his country. For the innocent. Sometimes even for the guilty. It had always been there in the back of Steve's mind, and he would never have had it any other way. The only way he knew how to live, was by putting himself into situations where he could very well die.

He felt himself sail through the air, but could also see it, like he was floating above the scene. He heard an uncharacteristic yell from Chin. He saw Danny react to it. All too quickly. All too slowly. Steve felt the impact first of his own body into Danny's, and then of the bullet when it found its new and unintended target.

In the last moments as darkness closed in on his vision, he could feel Danny's chest rising and falling as he breathed. _Breathed_. Alive. The ghost of a smile lit his face. It was, perhaps, the best use of his life he could ever have imagined. He'd done his job. He'd protected his partner. He'd taken the bullet.

Water-filled blue eyes followed him into the darkness. A voice hoarse with grief and love and pain and gratitude faded to an echo in his mind. In the fleeting slip of sand through the hourglass, just before Time started again, Steve felt tears fall into his face.

It would be okay. Danno was still alive for those who loved him.

Steve's smile stayed.


	5. Ways 9 and 10

**Way ****9  
>Be <strong>**gentle ****and ****tender ****with ****her.**

Danny had been thrown too hard, too fast. He was resting at an awkward angle against the side of the shed even as the garage was consumed by fire.

Chin, Kono, Lori and half of HPD had gone after the perps in the aftermath. Steve had gone after Danny.

He curled himself over Danny's still form, wanting desperately to touch, to make sure Danny was still alive. Afraid of finding out he wasn't.

Steve made himself reach out, fingertips barely touching the side of Danny's throat. Feeling a faint, thready pulse that had him exhale a breath he hadn't known he was holding.

Danny groaning, body stiffening as he cried out, some pain or other making itself known. Trying to move, Steve knowing he shouldn't. He hesitated, then allowed his hands to cradle Danny's head, trying to keep it stationary, keep Danny from moving.

Danny arched up, gasping, something hurt, so bad, maybe it hurt to breathe, Steve didn't know, Danny's eyes weren't open, they were squeezed shut.

Steve carefully moved behind his partner, propping him up with his chest, his leg, his arm. Cradling Danny's face with his hand, holding his head, could have a spinal cord injury, neck injury, head injury.

"Still, Danny," he whispered into Danny's ear. "Be still."

Permission given to not fight, Danny relaxed into him. Steve held him until the paramedics reached them, until Danny was placed on a backboard and loaded into the wagon.

And later, in the hospital, just to reassure himself, Steve let his fingertips rest briefly on the purple and black bruise along Danny's cheekbone until Danny groaned, leaned into the touch and blinked himself awake.

Steve's smile of relief was answered with a smile of gratitude. All Steve could say, after learning that Danny was suffering from nothing more than whiplash, was his partner's name.

Danny understood. And Steve's fingertips didn't move for a while.

* * *

><p><em>Author<em>_'__s __Note: __Way __10 __contains __some __spoilers __for __events __from __Season __2._

**Way ****10  
>Develop <strong>**a ****sense ****of ****humor.**

In yet another in a long line of batshit SEAL moves, Steve had taken a header – on _purpose_ – over the side of a yacht to go after Wo Fat's new Top Man, given that the head of the Yakuza in Hawaii had gotten rid of the guy's predecessor. Poor Hesse, trying to get Steve to save his life, winding up dead anyway.

The prison's security camera footage had showed Wo Fat strolling into Halawa in a guard's uniform like he owned the place. Like he was confident, always, of success. Like nobody – especially not a _McGarrett_ – could or would ever catch him.

Yeah, thing about that, Danny thought as he ran to the railing of the oversized tub toy Wo Fat's Top Man had been using for a secret meeting, was that Wo Fat simply couldn't conceive of the fact that Steve McGarrett wasn't alone in this like John McGarrett had been.

Wo Fat had learned that the hard way on a road in the middle of Nowhere, North Korea.

Nobody could take Steve down these days. He was never left alone, day or night, courtesy of Danny taking up permanent residence in Steve's childhood bedroom after he'd bought a nice, big TV for it and used the headphones Steve had bought him each and every night.

And convinced him that ten minute showers weren't cardinal sins. He still grinned over winning _that_ one.

Courtesy of Chin and Kono and Lori…Max and Kamekona and even little Grace…always being around twenty-four/seven, even when Five-0 wasn't technically on the clock and there was no case going down and it wasn't always Danny's custody weekend…but nobody _ever_ left Steve alone.

Chin's voice barked in Danny's ear, henchmen caught in an escaping dinghy.

Still no sign of McGarrett and Danny wondered if he'd fucked it all up, let Steve do his stupid, reckless, throw-myself-into-danger routine at the very moment he shouldn't have. If the fact that Danny was right here, right fucking _here_ didn't mean a goddamn thing this time.

And then there was a grunt from the bow of the yacht, and the slap of skin on metal and Danny turned his whole body to look. Up came a hairy forearm, and then a tattooed bicep and a sopping wet black V-neck tee shirt riding up to its owner's shoulder. And then a wet head, water dripping from hair and eyelashes and from the tip of a nose.

Steve's whole head popped up over the railing as he hauled himself up and then vaulted over. He stood there dripping wet all over the pristine deck right where the bow of the ship tapered into a sharp point and he grinned at Danny like he was a six-year old who'd just gone swimming with the dolphins and would be telling stories about it for the next month.

Danny just closed his eyes and had to laugh. He heard McGarrett chuckle, then the sounds of squelching wet shoes making their way towards him. "You get me wet, asshole, you're going in the drink again."

"Hardly a threat to a SEAL, Danny," and when Danny opened his eyes, it was to find himself face-to-face with his dripping, far too happy and boyishly excited partner. "I've got him strung up to the ladder," Steve informed him, and Danny rolled his eyes heavenward as Steve cocked an eyebrow at him.

The fact that he couldn't wait for the three little words to leave Steve's lips told Danny that maybe after all this time of orbiting Steve like a wayward asteroid caught in the fierce gravity of a star that burned far too brightly, _maybe _he'd developed a sense of humor about their lives after all.

Because, really, anyone who lived through what their team had lived through shouldn't ever be _this_ jovial.

"Yeah, yeah," Danny said with a flap of his hand to indicate Steve's general idiotic wet condition. "Go ahead."

"You know, sometimes, you just take all the fun out of everything."

"You're too old to pout."

"I'm not—all right, fine."

Yep. That was a pout.

"Well?" Danny asked, eyebrows going up toward his hairline.

Steve grinned, swiping at the water on his eyelashes with his forearm. "Book 'em, Danno."

Danny bowed, hand unfurling magnanimously like he'd just given a fine theatrical performance. And joined in Steve's laughter as he guided the yacht all the way back to the pier.


	6. Ways 11 and 12

_Author__'__s __Note: __Way __11 __contains __spoilers __for __Season __2._

**Way ****11  
>Avoid <strong>**sudden ****major ****changes ****without ****discussion ****and ****without ****giving ****her ****time ****to ****adjust.**

Okay, so the thing of it is, Steve understands every time he sees Danny through the prison glass, why Danny wasn't wearing a tie. His partner had said it himself – out-of-work cops and all that, no need to look professional, etcetera, etcetera.

But after the clusterfuck that is getting shanked by Hesse in some bass-ackwards attempt at saving his own life, after nearly dying on Max's bathroom floor, after seeing Danny and Chin come in and the incredible mess that ensues? Danny's _still_ not wearing a tie.

Anymore.

At all.

Ever.

Five-0's back in business, Steve expects his world to right itself like the whole Jameson thing never happened.

Not so much.

Because Danny _still_ isn't wearing a tie.

And the thing of it is, he's barely complaining about Hawaii.

Anymore.

At all.

Ever.

Well, until the dog, and he mentions how much he hates the island and the damn dog concurs, but that was just amusing, not something to be taken seriously. Right.

So Steve's world is more than just a little off-kilter, and gets even _more_so when he sees Danny very nearly _cry_ over that _movie_ scene, of all things. It was dis_gus_ting, he cannot believe his very own partner, the guy who thinks putting pineapple on pizza is worse than seeing a perp's insides on his outsides, doesn't think so. Oh, no, no. Danny Williams thinks the moment is _beautiful_ and is _misty-eyed_ and what the actual fuck is _that_ about?

And then suddenly he's on Steve's couch. At night. In Steve's house. Black mold. Bad decisions about places to live. A shit Halloween experience for his daughter, who can't wait to go back home. Leaves Danny in pieces on top of the whole Rachel thing, makes him do stupid things, knowing his daughter is back but doesn't want to be with him in his new digs. Makes him act like an asshole, get into a nasty fight with Steve over beliefs and all that in the Camaro.

But see, here's the crux of it all: things between him and Danny, they've never been mean. Never been nasty. Even when Danny's reading him the riot act about procedure and how Steve does things. Even when he's nearly purple in the face from not breathing through two paragraphs' worth of explaining why Hawaii hates him or why Steve's music choices suck _ass_, it's never been mean.

He doesn't want it to be that way.

Anymore.

At all.

Ever.

It means Danny's hurting. And then on top of it all he loses his apartment, crappy though it is, the one thing he has left of his own. And now Danny's hurting so bad and Steve doesn't know what to do, so he blurts out, "You can crash at my place."

"Thanks, partner."

Steve shrugs, no big deal, right?

Only it _is_ a big deal, and in spite of the fact that the whole TV-blasting-in-the-wee-hours thing nearly rips them apart, and in spite of the fact that Steve has to concede that three-minute showers aren't required when you're not in the Navy or face shouting matches with one Daniel Williams at four in the morning, here's the thing now.

It really, really _is_ a big deal because Steve finally feels like he's comfortable in a house that's been too-long filled with ghosts and memories that even his SEAL-trained brain can't shut out.

Shit.

So when Danny bemoans over dinner one night how impossible it is to find a place he can afford, that's not in the middle of a gang neighborhood, that's safe and clean enough for Grace, Steve finds himself saying something that really doesn't make sense and somehow makes all the sense in the world.

"Stay as long as you need. It's fun when Grace comes over."

And in the privacy of his own mind, Steve is man enough to admit that he's missed bunking down with other guys, even if half the time it was under a canopy of stars with hard ground beneath and not much else. He's missed having noise in his living space that he doesn't create himself, like the snores and farts and snorts of other men that he got used to in the Navy. He's missed having _someone_…_anyone_…around, and Cath isn't in port nearly often enough to alleviate it. Plus the woman doesn't snore _or_ fart. She's too quiet in and of herself to really count.

And when it comes right down to it, Steve's man enough to admit that when all is said and done, no matter how different they are and how much they clash over little things, he doesn't actually want Danny to look for a new place.

Anymore.

At all.

_Ever._

* * *

><p><em>Author<em>_'__s __Note: __Way __12 __is __a __quasi-companion __piece __to __Way __11._

**Way 12  
>Learn to respond openly and verbally when she wants to communicate.<strong>

Steve's not a talker.

Big shocker, I know.

But he's not. Oh, he can when he needs to. When he wants to find something out. When he's investigating, questioning, interrogating, trying to get the governor to agree to a new bazooka for the team.

But most of the time? No.

So when Danny returns to the house three weeks after he starts crashing on Steve's couch, when he returns from taking Grace back to the Edwards house and is quiet and sullen and morose and every one of those sorrowful words from the thesaurus, Steve tries to lighten him up, he really does.

All that comes out, though, is, "So."

And Danny cuts his eye at him and then rolls his eyes and then shakes his head like it's no surprise Steve can yap endlessly with guys like his former SEAL buddies about missions and weapons and terrorists, but when it comes to shit like this, Steve _totally_ sucks at the whole 'comfort' thing.

"I may have found a place," Danny finally says, seeming to lose a little of the sadness that always comes with his daughter's departure.

This takes Steve aback and before he knows it, he's babbling stupidly, moronically, about things like rent and utilities and paychecks and money and convenience and carbon footprints. He's saying something about buying televisions and moving Danny's new and unused mattress into the guest room and there may even be something about longer showers and getting used to having someone around again, with Steve promising to buy earplugs to wear at night thrown in for good measure.

In spite of the fact that he wouldn't be able to hear a _tank_ roll onto the house if he does.

And by the time Steve decides he's embarrassed himself enough for about a dozen lifetimes and realizes that Danny's gaping openly at him, eyes unblinking, his face is red enough that he's pretty sure his head is going to just spontaneously combust in a few seconds.

Then Danny chuckles and Steve feels himself grow incensed because no matter how dumb he feels, he shouldn't have to be _laughed __at_ for finally figuring out – in his own weird, awkward way – how to communicate.

"Christ, McGarrett," Danny says as his chuckle dies down. "If you wanted me to stay, all you had to do was ask."

And Steve smiles brightly because while he's not altogether that good at the whole 'comfort' thing, and while bumbling through personal relationships and friendships and partnerships seems to be his forte more often than not, apparently he's learned to do something here with Danny in the past year-plus they've known each other. Apparently, he _has_ learned to communicate.

Or maybe not.

Maybe, it's just that Danny's the only one who's really bothered to learn to understand him.

The end result is that he has a roommate.

A roommate that never does wind up leaving.


	7. Ways 13 and 14

**Way ****13  
>Comfort <strong>**her ****when ****she's ****down ****emotionally. ****Put ****your ****arms ****around ****her ****& ****hold ****her.**

Daniel Williams was having a really shitty day.

Shitty week.

Month.

Truth be told, the last year hadn't been all that great, period.

Oh, sure, he liked his team, this thing called Five-0. He liked the work, although on its craziest days it did have him longing for run-of-the-mill Jersey crimes because really, how many bad guys can one friggin' island have, anyway?

But the day…the week…the month…had been filled with _shit_.

He wouldn't let himself run back through the whole list of _shit_ because he was already feeling bad enough. No sense in kicking his own ass when he was already down enough for several lifetimes. And enjoying the pity party for what it was.

Right now, what it was precisely, was three beers down and working on a fourth in the anonymity of a crap-ass bar that was filled with people who could probably all be arrested for one thing or another. But Danny's badge wasn't on his belt, and his gun wasn't on his hip. Right here, right now, he was just a down-and-out _haole_ without a decent place to live, without his daughter since Rachel had decided her parents needed to meet Stan and whisked the family off to England. Without his _ohana_ because they all had some beach surf party thing that Danny wouldn't be caught dead at for all the sand that would end up in nondescript and very private places.

Oh, yes. It was the night for Danny Williams to allow himself to feel _sorry_ for himself, and he was enjoying the feeling very, very much.

Until some big biker dude got the wrong idea about how to spend _his_ shitty evening, and thought picking on the short blond guy miserably drowning his sorrows was his night's entertainment.

Which was how the big biker dude found out not to underestimate Jersey detectives. But unfortunately, it was also how Danny Williams found out that the big biker dude was apparently BFFs with every other dude in the joint.

Funny, Danny hadn't realized the absolute absence of females in the place until the moment he saw at least thirty male torsos headed his way.

That was when the oddest thing happened, almost as if he was watching one of Grace's kiddie movies, or maybe an early Jackie Chan flick. A body near the back of the crowd flew up into the air, flipped once, and came down with a loud grunt.

Then another one launched in much the same manner.

And another.

The next one went sailing horizontally and knocked down a dozen other guys. Something unseen seemed to be cutting a swath through the sea of half-drunk adrenaline-charged bar patrons. It wasn't until the something got closer, reared up from a crouch on the floor and sent six guys flying back like they were errant bowling pins, that it all made complete sense to Danny.

Steve.

Honest-to-God, the freaking ninja himself.

Danny couldn't help but laugh out loud. Then suddenly, he and Steve were back-to-back and if this wasn't right out of a Bruce Lee movie, Danny didn't know what was. His nice buzz was gone, replaced with an instinctive need to self-preserve. And to prove to his partner – whyever it was he was there to begin with – that he could hold his own, height-challenged and all.

By the time they left, HPD was swarming the place, they'd given their statements, and they'd apologized to the bartender, who'd wrapped things up for himself (and his bar, permanently) by responding with a big, beefy fist that connected hard with Danny's jaw.

The ice pack the EMT had supplied was firmly planted against his jaw as he scowled the miles away sitting in the passenger seat of Steve's pickup while Steve pointed it in the direction of Casa McGarrett.

He didn't bitch, but only because his jaw ached like a _mother_.

"Okay," Steve said as he pulled into his driveway and cut the engine. "My turn to rant."

When Danny tried to open his mouth to protest, pain forced him to keep it closed.

"So was this pity party of yours," Steve said, twisting in his seat so he could look at his partner full-on, "something you were just going to finish up with a night in the hospital or, worse yet, with me having to make a cross-pond call to Jolly Ol' so I could tell Grace her father got drunk and got himself _killed_?"

Danny glared at him, jaw still refusing to cooperate without an accompanying burst of pain he was sure would even have sent Steve to the ground.

"Oh," Steve said, holding his hands up in mock self-defense, "I'm so sorry. _You_ get to question _my_ tactics all the time. _My_ reasons for doing things that you deem stupid and irresponsible and the _worst_ ideas and decisions you've _ever_ encountered, but when _you_ do something as monumentally _fucked __up_ as walk into a goddamn _gay __biker __bar_ spoiling for a fight without even being armed? I'm supposed to just let it lie. Right?"

The Danny-glare turned into a Danny-stare. Or, more precisely, the Danny WTF-Stare.

"Gay biker bar?" he ground out between his teeth, even that small amount of movement making him wince.

"Yeah, Danny. Gay biker bar. The first guy who started shit with you was probably fucking _hitting_ on you."

With that, Steve was out of the truck and heading up to his front door. He unlocked it, went in and disabled the alarm, leaving the front door wide open.

Leaving it for Danny to choose whether to come in, or just climb into his Camaro – which had mysteriously appeared in Steve's driveway when Danny knew for a _fact_ he'd driven it to the bar four hours earlier.

Danny, who just sat there in the passenger seat of Steve's pickup getting paler by the second. Jesus Christ, it could have been so much worse than some bruising to his torso and his arms. Than the aggravation to his muscles. Than the split knuckle he was sporting courtesy of connecting his fist with a guy's teeth. Than his aching jaw.

He could've been raped. He could've been killed. Or both.

His Grandma Williams's words echoed back at him across the years, from when he was just a boy of ten and had come home from school sporting a big, black eye courtesy of the playground bully and his friends.

"_You __may __think __you __have __it __bad, __Danny, __but __just __remember: __it __could __always __be __worse.__"_

That pity party he'd been having for himself had been a self-indulgent, teenage fantasy-fueled crock of shit. How often during his formative years had he just wanted to curl up into a ball and let them kick the shit out of him until they broke something important enough that it could never be fixed?

He'd gotten through it all by developing the bravado that he wore like a coat of Teflon and titanium armor plating to this day. He'd never let himself get down and out after that time in seventh grade when he'd lost four teeth in the alley behind the junior high school.

It was amazing what modern dentistry was capable of. It was sometimes hard for his new Hawaiian dentist to believe those four teeth were fake ones screwed into his jaw.

But having to leave everything and everyone he'd ever loved and known at home – in spite of the hellish childhood he'd endured as the kid who'd stopped growing in sixth grade and hadn't ever been at the top end of the height charts to begin with. Falling out of love, falling in love, continuing to love, falling _back_ in love, thinking life was going to start over, watching your life seem to end right before your eyes, watching someone you'd started caring about _way_ too much get fucked over every which way a guy _could_ be, agonizing over near-deaths and betrayals and loss and hatred.

It had gotten to be too much for him, and after more than two decades of this _shit_, he'd done what? Walked into a gay biker bar on the outskirts of Honolulu and nearly gotten himself killed.

Danny stumbled out of the truck, melting ice pack still plastered firmly to his jaw. He slammed the door shut with much more force than was absolutely required, and then leaned back against it, finally letting his hand drop, the ice pack thunking wetly to the driveway.

He didn't care that a tear was escaping. He'd lost his marbles tonight, saved by the one guy he knew who was just insane enough to take on three dozen huge guys with axes to grind against straight men, _haoles_, cops, non-bikers and probably Navy men too, just for good measure.

He should thank Steve. Profusely. Endlessly. Maybe by finally shutting up and not giving Steve such ever-loving shit all the time. If he could. He didn't _know_ if he could. He was so used to being the way he was.

But Steve at _least_ deserved his thanks.

Then there were hands on his biceps, and his instinct was to flail and protect. Dodge and evade. But the hands held tightly and Danny came down off his knee-jerk reaction just enough to see they were _Steve__'__s_ hands, not those of some biker dude in a bar.

Danny sagged.

Steve reeled him in.

Apparently, Steve didn't want an apology. Apparently, he just wanted a hug.

That worked for Danny. Although maybe tomorrow, his jaw would be able to work well enough to apologize properly.

In the meantime, he started rebuilding his psyche. Danny Williams wasn't the 'little guy' who was consistently at the wrong end of bullies' fists anymore. Who'd become a cop just so he could legitimately carry a weapon and threaten to shoot everyone in the face if they dared try that shit with him ever again.

Now he was a good goddamn detective, on the most elite task force in the state. He was father to a brilliant and beautiful child. He was partner to the best the Navy had in Steve McGarrett. He was the backup, he was Danno. He'd long ago overcome what he had been, and become more than he ever could have dreamed. He'd just never stopped fighting his life long enough to realize it. To realize that he belonged to Hawaii now. To Grace, certainly, always. That he'd become closer-than-blood family to Chin Ho and Kono, like brothers and sisters that meant more than the ones you were born with, somehow.

And if the way his partner kept his arm around Danny's shoulders all the way into the house was any indication, somehow he'd also become Steve's as well. Steve's _what_, exactly, remained to be seen.

Danny just hoped eventually he'd live down the fact that it took a bunch of gay biker dudes in a seedy bar to realize it. But if he knew his partner – and he did – Steve would probably _never_ mention it again.

Wow. Danny had _so __much_.

He smiled as Steve guided him to one of the guest rooms. Smiled, even though it made his jaw scream at him like it was on fire and wanted to fall off all at the same time. When he sat heavily on the edge of the bed, and Steve sat next to him, hand rising to plaster a fresh ice pack to the bruised bone, Danny stayed still and just let it be.

The small, quiet noise that escaped his throat was meant to be _thank __you_ and _I__'__m __sorry_ and _Christ, __I__'__m __tired __of __fighting __my __way __through __every __second __of __every __day_.

Steve seemed to understand, knocking shoulders with his partner. Danny allowed his eyes to close. Tomorrow, things would be different. He would see to it.

But tonight, right here in this moment, he liked them just the way they were.

* * *

><p><strong>Way 14<br>Be interested in what she feels is important in life.**

It had started out as a way to wear down Danny's defenses.

It had ended up with him falling in love with a little brown-haired, brown-eyed girl.

It had started out as a way to learn more about Danny, to pull out the little things he'd never reveal on the job at his partner's side or flanking him in a firefight.

It had ended up with him seeing a side to his partner that Danny was, increasingly, letting him see even when Grace wasn't around.

It had started out as a way to erase his own loneliness and to escape the emptiness of the house where his father had lost his life and where Steve nearly had more than once.

It had ended up with him looking forward to Danny having custody of Grace because it meant Steve got custody of _both_ of them.

It had started out as a way to get Danny to fall in love with Hawaii through the eyes of his daughter, by making sure he showed Grace every beautiful, perfect, wonderful thing there was about their paradise home.

It had ended up with Steve falling in love with Hawaii all over again himself, and looking upon his partner as something much, much closer to a best friend and confidante than he'd had since he was twelve.

It had started out as a way to help Danny through a rough patch where he had nowhere to live, and nowhere safe to take his daughter when it was his turn to have her.

It had ended up with Steve never wanting him to leave, although eventually, he had, as was his right.

It had started out with Danny being a means to an end: to catch the man who'd murdered his father.

It had ended up the strongest, surest, most important and lasting relationship in Steve McGarrett's life.

None of it had started out to be what it ended up being.

But he didn't know quite what that was yet; because their story was still being written.


	8. Ways 15 and 16

**Way ****15  
>Correct <strong>**her ****gently ****and ****tenderly.**

Steve has no idea how it is Danny can go from a patient, loving, soft-spoken and gentle man explaining the finer points of Geometry to a nine-year old and quietly correcting her mistakes, to one who's got smoke coming out of his ears, whose hands are more animated than his lips, and whose voice is registering somewhere on the higher end of the decibel scale.

But he does.

Steve has no idea how it is Danny can go from kissing a scraped up knee so tenderly, placing a bandage so carefully over a wound and giving a strong and sure, yet careful, hug to a traumatized but well-loved girl, to one who's using both fists to pummel the living shit out of a guy who tried to shoot him, who's yanking a perp with a dislocated shoulder way-too-roughly to his feet after he almost decapitated McGarrett, and who's practically throwing Steve into the back of an ambulance when he refuses to get checked out by the paramedics.

But he does.

Steve has _no_ idea how it is Danny goes from being a proud father who will sing along with Disney movie songs and Justin Bieber at the top of his lungs alongside his daughter, who will spend hours practicing on a Barbie head just so he can French braid Gracie's hair when she wants, or who will patiently take _weeks_ of surfing lessons just so he can see his daughter's brilliant smile when they get into the water together with their boards, to a man who rails against Steve's way of doing things, who rides him constantly about his musical choices and who gets impatient when the guy at Starbucks takes too long preparing his cup of coffee in the mornings.

But he does.

Steve really, truly and honestly doesn't get how a man can be such a dichotomy, like two different people existing in the same body and mind, yet complete opposites to one another.

He doesn't get it until the day Danny is kidnapped from his parents' home during a Christmas visit, by a man Danny and his partner at the time put behind bars in New Jersey five years earlier.

He doesn't get it until rather than being able to treat it like the same sort of mission he did for years in the Navy, it becomes so personal he can hardly see a straight line between two points for all the emotion slamming into him.

He doesn't get it until he spends ten minutes killing the eight men guarding where they're holding Danny in the basement of a house in Newark, including the fucker who was behind the whole thing, then spends ten minutes gently bringing Danny back to consciousness just to make sure nothing major is broken before he moves him.

He doesn't get it until he's sitting next to Danny's sleeping form in the hospital, unable and unwilling to close his eyes because all he'll see are the horrors his mind keeps inventing to explain what Danny went through at the hands of Cab Foster and his cronies for ten whole days. Until he drops off into a fitful doze while sitting upright, succumbing to fatigue, and wakes hours later to find that he's been covered with a handmade Ma Williams afghan, to which a note has been left pinned.

A note which reads: _I __guess __this __explains __every __phone __call __I__'__ve __had __with __my __son __since __six __months __after __he __moved __to __Hawaii __to __be __near __Grace, __all __the __things __he__'__s __told __me __about __you. __And __it __explains __why __you__'__re __going __to __have __a __crick __in __your __neck __the __size __of __Manhattan. __Danny __always __did __push __away __the __ones __he __couldn__'__t __figure __out __how __to __love. __When __you __wake __up, __why __don__'__t __you __come __over __for __a __good __meal, __son?_

Steve smiles as he looks up to find bright blue eyes locked onto his.

Now, he gets it.

* * *

><p><strong>Way 16<br>Allow her to teach you without putting up your defenses.**

Steve teaches Danny how to tie a Bowline knot like he learned to do in the SEALs. Danny finally gets it right, goofy thumbs and all, and lights up like he's just won Olympic gold.

Danny teaches Steve how to Mirandize the suspects _before_ you punch them. It's not perfect, but considering how Steve does things, Danny will take it as a win when McGarrett zips through the rights at lightning speed and then knocks the latest criminal on his ass for talking smack.

Steve teaches Danny the tip breaking stress, the blade breaking limit, how much force it takes to twist the handle off, the resistance to gasoline and torching, and the exact thrust required for most effective penetration of each vital area of the human body for the SEAL Team knife, before he then provides one as a gift to his partner. He realizes from the resulting smile that it means more to Danny than he can find words to explain – a rare and treasured occurrence, indeed.

Danny teaches Steve how to make his mother's lasagna, his mother's famous Key Lime pie and his mother's five-alarm award-winning envy-of-all-the-neighborhood-women chili. Steve gains a few pounds, but the food fights during their cooking sessions are way too much fun for him to care all that much. There's something to be said for reverting to childish behavior in the kitchen.

Steve slowly, over the course of a few months, teaches Danny the Navy SEAL workout, which includes a two-mile run, sixty pushups, eighty sit-ups, nine pull-ups and fifteen minutes' worth of swimming. Steve only makes Danny go with him on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, occasionally cajoling him into joining him on Saturdays, too, if he doesn't have Grace. As much as Danny bitches at first about all the aches and pains he suffers as his body tries to figure out what the ever-loving fuck he's doing to it, six months after their first session together, Danny's strutting around like a male peacock during mating season because he's able to leap over shipping containers and race across rooftops and sprint along beaches _and_ keep up with his partner now like he never could before. He's truly at Steve's side every _second_, and that's a major win for Steve.

Danny teaches Steve how to apply a pre-teen's makeup for her. How to curl and style a pre-teen's hair before she goes out with her friends. How to decide from a more parental rather than more male perspective, whether what the pre-teen is wearing is appropriate, and how to tell her when it's not. (Steve subsequently vows to _never_ have children of his own, especially those of the girl variety.)

Steve teaches Danny how to eat ham and pineapple pizza and actually enjoy it. (The tequila chaser may have contributed to that particular success.)

Danny teaches Steve how to relax and not be ready to kick ass in 0.2 nanoseconds every moment of the day and night by treating him to a patented Williams Family Neck-and-Shoulder Massage. The fact that it puts Steve to sleep for five hours solid is a bonus.

Steve teaches Danny how to live each moment to the fullest – no regrets, no second-guessing, no holds barred – and there's only a minimum of Danny-Bitching involved when part of that living includes parasailing.

And when Danny nearly gets himself killed, surviving by some miracle of how the third rib down on his left side isn't quite parallel to the rest of them, he inadvertently teaches Steve to believe that he _won__'__t_ eventually lose everyone he loves.


	9. Ways 17 and 18

**Way ****17  
>Make <strong>**special ****time ****available ****to ****her ****and ****your ****children.**

"Why does Uncle Steve not get to have the day off for Christmas like you and I do?"

Danny smiles down at Grace, seated at the kitchen table with a laptop open in front of her. The Skype program is open but sitting unused at the moment and Danny glances at the clock on the wall, watching the second hand tick the last thirty seconds down slowly.

"People in the military don't always get to be home with their families on Christmas or other holidays, if the job they're doing is in far from where they live," Danny explains gently. "We're not even sure we're going to get to talk to him today."

"But I thought it was scheduled for ten o'clock."

"It is," Chin speaks up from behind them, and Grace turns to look at him. "But just because the Navy scheduled this as the time for Steve's SEAL team to speak to their family members, doesn't mean they're actually free to do it."

"I don't think I like the Navy," Grace frowns, turning back to look at the laptop screen.

Kono chuckles from Danny's right as he mumbles, "Join the club."

"If he can be here," Chin assures Grace, nodding toward the laptop, "he will."

Kono elbows Danny's arm, sympathetic to the way his entire body is tensed, the way his hands are clenched into tight fists, the rigid line of his back and neck. Danny tries to relax and forces a smile, but it's been four-and-a-half months since Steve was recalled to active duty, and the entire team's been on edge for at _least_ three-quarters of that time.

All they want to do is see that he's alive and breathing. Even something as quick as a thirty-second glimpse will assuage their fears.

And so they wait.

Grace fidgets a little in the chair, staring intently at the screen as though she can will the Skype video phone to ring.

When it does, all four of them flinch a little.

Grace grins and uses the mousepad to accept the incoming call.

The picture is grainy at first, but they can hear some fiddling with something going on and then suddenly it clears.

His face is covered in camo paint.

His hair is cropped short and yet still somehow sticking out everywhere.

His eyes are a little bloodshot.

He's wearing full fatigues including a bulletproof vest that looks like it might've taken a couple of hits.

He looks at them from the screen of the laptop, mouth open a little, because he wasn't expecting to see his entire _ohana_ before him.

When he smiles, his team and adopted niece breathe a collective sigh of relief.

"_Mele __Kalikimaka_," he says, and if his voice is a little raspy and thick with emotion, nobody cares.

Kono and Chin and Grace wave and give him a "_Mele __Kalikimaka!_" in response.

"Merry Christmas," Danny says when their voices die down.

Steve looks him in the eye. "Merry Christmas, Danno." He manages to smile and look apprehensive all at the same time. "I've only got another thirty seconds." He looks off to the side for a split second, then looks at each of them in turn. "I'll see you in two weeks," he whispers.

While Kono, Chin and Grace are cheering, giving high-fives and fist bumps and creating a general ruckus of happiness, Danny crouches next to where his daughter sits in the chair, catches Steve's eye and says, "I'm holding you to that."

Thirty seconds isn't nearly enough after so long.

But, Danny thinks as Steve gives one final wave and catches Grace's hand-blown kiss in mid-air before ending the call, it's a helluva lot better than nothing on Christmas Day.

Steve will be home in two weeks.

Grace hugs Danny tightly, Kono's hand drops to his left shoulder. Chin's hand drops to his right.

Two weeks.

They'll _all_ hold onto that for now.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: Way 18 contains spoilers for Season 2.<em>

**Way 18  
>Be trustworthy.<strong>

"_Men __trust __their __ears __less __than __their __eyes.__"__  
><em>_**-Herodotus**_

He'd never said it.

Hell, neither of them had.

Some would tell you that you could never trust another human being. And while Steve's learned the hard way that he might've been better off following that advice, he's far too aware of the fact that a few rotten apples, as his mother once told him, don't make for an entirely bad barrel.

Still, earning his trust wasn't an easy thing to do.

Which was why his and Danny's partnership – hell, the entirety of their relationship from bow to stern – came as a not-unpleasant surprise to a man who'd made the decision on the turn of a dime to leave the only life he'd ever really known just to find the man who murdered his father.

Even that day in the garage, the underpinning of something larger had been palpable. Steve would never have commandeered the detective and dragged him off to follow leads if his gut had told him the man couldn't be trusted.

It had been in the raw honesty that came from blue eyes.

The belligerent jut of the chin when the shorter man challenged him.

The protectiveness when his daughter was mentioned.

It had been the actions of following him with gun drawn into the fray even as his words made it seem like he'd rather shoot Steve than any perpetrator they might find.

The constant pushing up into the space of someone who could kill him in less than a second.

The blow to his jaw, a retaliatory gesture that earned a man who hated Hawaii respect from one who loved it.

It had been the entirety of what Steve saw in a fiery, mouthy, unexpected package named Danny Williams. The tells were there. All the signs. Steve had gotten good at reading people at Annapolis. In Naval Intelligence. As a SEAL.

He'd allowed his joy over seeing someone who understood intimately who and what he was to overshadow that ability to read, yet Danny had known from Beat One that Nick Taylor wasn't to be trusted.

They'd both been snowed by Jenna.

And yet each and every member of his team had traveled halfway 'round the world without anything near the type of training they should've had before undertaking a mission worthy of a SEAL team.

In those last moments he'd thought for sure the jig was up. That his trusting of the wrong person was going to be the thing that took his life.

He hadn't trusted those who loved him most, enough.

But _they_ had trusted how well they knew _him_. That _he_would have gone to the ends of the Earth to save any one of them had their positions been reversed. They had risked so much to save his life. Risked _everything_.

He didn't know what to do with that. He couldn't process it. Couldn't equate trusting them to have his backs daily on Five-0 business, with trusting in the love of their _ohana_ enough to maybe leave Malia with a dead fiancée and Grace without a father – to possibly lose a Navy commission, their _jobs_ and _livelihoods_ – all for _him_.

The knowledge, when it finally sunk into his mind and gripped his heart one night a week later, nearly broke him.

And began to rebuild him.

Under the light of a full moon, on the beach behind his house, Danny finally saw him cry. Knowing as his hand rested lightly between his partner's shoulder blades, that this was one thing Steve would _never_ trust to anyone else.


	10. Ways 19 and 20

**Way ****19  
>Compliment <strong>**her ****often.**

See, the thing is, guys just don't walk up to each other and go, "Hey, that tie really brings out the color in your eyes, man."

Not guys like us, anyway.

And we don't find each other after a messy firefight and wax poetic about what an awesome aim our partner has, or how incredible it was that he could shoot four assholes while swinging on a chain like some urban Tarzan.

Not cops. Or military guys. No.

And while we appreciate beauty in all things – hell, I have one word for you here: women – you really won't ever hear one of us go up to the other and say, "The flowers outside your house smell gorgeous, even all the way in here."

Yeah. Not going to happen.

But what you _will_ find, when my partner happens to like whatever I'm wearing on any given day, is his eyes giving me the once-over, and him getting a small smile – sometimes a really goofball one.

What you _will_ find in the aftermath of a nasty firefight where we all make it out relatively unscathed, is a frantic look around until he gets eyes on me, assesses that I'm unharmed, and blinks in relief. I tend to blink right back. Unless he's actually _not_ unharmed, then I give him a good piece of my mind.

And I will be the first to admit I might be a little more sappy about what is and isn't beautiful, but I will defend my manliness to my dying day by stating that it's because I have a daughter, and daughters are well-known to turn their fathers into mushballs without much more than the batting of an eyelash, I get a free pass.

But I'll tell you one thing: when you're pretty convinced your partner's finally met the bullet that had his name on it, and that he's never going to wake up and give you Aneurism Face or look you up and down when you don't wear a tie or stare right through you when he knows you're not quite telling him the truth…well, when that happens, and the stupid horshoes-up-his-butt bastard actually _does_ wake up and puts his sleepy, drug-addled eyes on you?

Well, you wouldn't even be _half_ a man in my estimation if you didn't call those eyes right there, the most beautiful things you'd ever seen.

And then you squeeze his hand and clear your throat and promptly walk away to find the doctor because hey, no matter how many tears you blink back because you're so fucking relieved he survived, you still have your dignity as a cop…and a man…to maintain, after all.

* * *

><p><strong>Way 20<br>Be creative when you express your love, either in words or actions.**

Growing up in the Williams family involved lots of noise.

Lots of hugs.

Lots of food.

Growing up in the Williams family involved lots of touching.

Lots of yelling.

Lots of laughing.

Growing up in the Williams family involved lots of family members.

Lots of joy.

Lots of tears.

Growing up in the Williams family meant you wore your heart on your sleeve.

It meant you didn't hold back.

It meant you loved as fiercely as you fought, and sometimes it was difficult to tell the two apart.

The Hawaiian islands weren't really ready for a Williams who'd grown up that way. They weren't quite ready for the typhoon and subsequent tidal wave, both with the name of Danny, to hit them so unawares.

There was one particular Navy SEAL who _really_ wasn't prepared for such an event.

And yet somehow, even when the detective was calling him a moron, there was…

And when words like 'bitch' and 'Neanderthal animal' left the shorter man's lips, it wasn't…

And when an epic rant about getting himself and his partner killed was in progress, it was…

Steve couldn't necessarily put words to what it was or wasn't. All he could chalk it up to, was that whatever the Danny Moment was, it all stemmed from one simple and yet highly complex thing: Danny's heart.

Maybe, Steve thought, all the hand gestures and using twelve thousand more words than necessary, and the little touches and looks…maybe it was all Danny's way of showing he cared.

And while Steve's ways were much more subtle and definitely a great deal less loud, he thought he did a pretty good job of showing it, too.


	11. Ways 21 and 22

**Way ****21  
>Have <strong>**specific ****family ****goals ****for ****each ****year.**

Danny's a big fan of lists. He is, and he'll freely admit he gets a little OCD about the whole thing, but there you have it.

Nobody else knows about Danny's lists. He's got them hidden pretty well, or, he _had_ them hidden pretty well when he had his own space.

Now, however, he doesn't have his own anything. Well, he's got his own pillow and blankets, yes, and he has these nice noise-canceling headphones courtesy of a partner who wants to make something really weird work.

Really weird as in, living _with_ your partner.

It's even weirder when that same partner comes home lugging a gigantic, heavy rectangular box through the front door and up the steps without so much as a word to the guy who was in the kitchen making dinner but is now standing at the base of the staircase watching Mr. I'm-A-Big-Boy-And-Can-Do-Everything-Myself trying to angle the damn thing so as not to bang up the walls.

Curiosity piqued, Danny follows his partner up and watches as Steve hauls the box into what is Steve's childhood bedroom. Thing is, they've been pulling long days and nights, switching off shifts on stakeouts so that more often than not over the past couple of weeks, Steve's home when Danny's not and vice-versa.

He gets to the doorway of Steve's room and his heart just stutters to a halt right then and there, because this…this is…

The walls of the room have been painted a dark blue, with a maroon stripe bisecting top and bottom all the way around. Danny's big, new bed that he never had the chance to use takes up a good amount of the small room's space, with its new sheets and comforter and pillows neatly making it into something right out of a 'Better Homes and Gardens' spread.

There's a tall, dark wooden dresser with five drawers along the wall at the foot of the bed right next to the closet, which Danny can see is filled with his ties and dress pants and button-down dress shirts, along with the few polos and tee shirts that he owns. He suspects his underwear and socks and undershirts and various and sundry things like shorts and sweatpants are neatly folded in the dresser drawers and feels sweat break out along his hairline as McGarrett rips into the cardboard box.

He pulls what's inside the box right out, and Danny sees it's a thirty-inch LCD television, and he watches, completely unable to speak, as Steve hangs it on the wall above the dresser so that it's perfectly aligned with the bed. When finished, Steve picks up the now-empty box and turns as if to walk out the door. Danny doesn't even think, just as much as he doesn't even blink, and steps to the side in the hall to let Steve pass. Steve throws him a small smile, then disappears down the steps, leaving Danny to walk into the bedroom, which still smells faintly of fresh paint and maybe cleaner and that's probably a whiff of wood oil. The scent of freshly laundered sheets which remind Danny of how Steve's clothes smell first thing in the morning tells him Steve must have washed them before putting them on the bed.

And there, on the right, something Danny hadn't been able to see from his previous vantage point in the doorway, hanging on the wall, is a photo Danny had completely forgotten about, missing amongst his meager belongings that were stashed in boxes in Steve's attic at the moment. It's an eight-by-ten that's been placed into a dark wood frame that matches the dresser, and is of him and Grace in the water with their surfboards side-by-side on the very first day they'd gone into the Pacific together with them, Kono and Chin and Steve standing by to enjoy the moment as _ohana_.

Grace was beaming at Danny and Danny was beaming at Grace, and it was one of those moments that always will bring tears to Danny's eyes no matter how he tries to stop it from happening, and the fact that Steve got a frame for it, hung it just-so, and Danny turns in a three-sixty and just _looks_ at the room filled with his favorite colors and his favorite kind of dark wood. He looks down at the floor, which is hardwood and freshly polished, but covered with an area rug that matches the comforter. The small trash can in the corner matches, too, and somehow Steve even matched to get a tiny wooden desk and set Danny's desktop computer up on it. The printer's on the floor, because the desk's too small, but everything looks like it's hooked up and…Danny peers at the lights on the tower…like it's switched on.

He goes and pulls out the small office chair that's on rollers, sits down, and jiggles the mouse. The monitor comes to life and he stares, mortified, at the thing showing on it. The thing being a Word document that's one of his lists, and it's a list that has had every item but one crossed off. He leans back and just stares, and the tears that had threatened when he saw the photo of himself and Grace on the wall start wanting to come back, because he realizes what's happened here, and no part of him can find it in his normally generally pissed-off state to be mad at Steve, because…

Find a place to live that's safe for Grace.

Find a place where I can paint things my favorite colors.

Find a place where I can finally have a real bed.

Find a place that has a real kitchen, and a real yard and a real living room.

Find a place I can afford.

Find a place where my dresser isn't two cardboard boxes.

Find a place where Grace will be happy and have her own room.

Find a place that's not too far from work.

Find a place that Steve won't give me shit about.

Find a place that feels like home.

He hears the size elevens walk up the hallway and into the bedroom and turns to find his partner looming in the doorway looking, of all things, more than just a little uncertain of himself as he rubs the back of his neck. And Danny realizes his partner wasn't resting like he should've been all the times he came home while Danny stayed on the stakeout, sometimes alone, sometimes with Chin or Kono in rotating shifts.

No. His crazy partner was coming here and doing all this…all _this_…

Steve gives Danny a hesitant smile, then beckons him back into the hall and Danny follows to the room next door that he knows is Mary's.

_Was_ Mary's.

It, too, has been repainted, in varying shades of lavender and pale pink, and Mary's twin bed has been refinished headboard to footboard and there's a frilly pink and lavender comforter on it that looks worn but clean, and there are some old stuffed animals and books and it's just…

Danny turns away and heads back to the room Steve made for him before Steve can see the tears slip out of Danny's eyes, and he sits back down in the rolling office chair, hearing his partner come up behind him even as Danny snuffles and tries to stop the overwhelming emotions hitting him.

He reaches out, highlights Number Ten on his list, right-clicks it and chooses 'Font' from the menu. He clicks the 'Strikethrough' box and OK and just like that, the tenth item's been crossed off the list.

He turns just in time to see Steve smiling and blinking before his partner darts out of the room and his footsteps disappear down the stairs. It's time for Danny to go pick Grace up now, and as he stands and looks at himself in the full-length mirror hung on the back of the closet door, and makes his face presentable in case he runs into Steve on the way out of the house, he knows he should be pissed that Steve invaded his privacy like that, pulling up his list of things he wanted in looking for a new place to live.

But, looking around at what Steve has done for him here, conscientiously ticking things off Danny's list like he's done, he just _can__'__t_ be angry.

He doesn't know what emotion to feel in its place, and he knows they have to talk about things like him paying rent and utilities and groceries and all that day-to-day stuff that can't be ignored, but for right now, he's just so happy that he's got something for Grace that she can't get in a motel room and not even in a crappy studio apartment, because none of those places come with what this particular place comes with.

He walks outside and sees his partner sitting in the driver's seat of the Camaro, and he can't help but shake his head and laugh because it's about time he realizes that when you're Steve McGarrett's partner, you're pretty much screwed if you think you're in control of _anything_ anymore.

It should bug the hell out of him. And maybe later, after Grace is happy and tired and sacked out in her beautiful new old bed, and the door is closed on her peaceful dreams, he'll work up a good head of steam about boundaries and running other peoples' lives, but when Steve gives him that stupidly happy Labrador Retriever grin as he slides into the passenger seat, he can't find it in his heart to scold the guy.

The Camaro shoots out of Steve's driveway and Danny wonders just what the hell he's in for here. As soon as Steve switches on the radio, to that god-awful sappy 70s romantic music station, with a smirk on his face that says he knows damn well what he's doing, Danny figures, yeah…he can do this.

And so he starts them down the road of doing what they do best.

"You know, I know we've had this discussion before, Steven, my _God_, your taste in music, just, okay, I am _not_ trained to endure this kind of shit…" he begins. And if Steve's now grinning from ear-to-ear, well…what the hell.

Right?

* * *

><p><strong>Way 22<br>Let her buy things she considers necessary.**

"Steven."

"Daniel."

"You and me, we're going to have a talk."

"Okay, sure."

"Now, do you see these things laid out here on this nice, big conference room table?"

"Yes, Danno, I see them."

"Okay, now we're going to go nice and slow here, Steven, all right?"

"Uh-huh."

"Right. Now, this here, would you mind telling me exactly what this is?"

"That is a Tuffy security glovebox with a latch that a child can't undo."

"Right, okay, and what's it for?"

"The Camaro."

"The…you mean _my_ car."

"Yes."

"Because…?"

"Because you don't want Grace to be able to get her hands on the grenades."

"I believe my request was for you not to keep grenades in my glove compartment."

"It's a compromise, Danny."

"Right. A compromise. Okay. So…now I'm holding something else, Steven. What is this?"

"That is a shallow false wall I had made to fit against the actual back wall of the Camaro's trunk."

"To what end?"

"So I can keep necessary weaponry there but hidden so Grace can't find it."

"Necessary weaponry like the small-caliber rocket launcher I found in my trunk last week?"

"No, Daniel, that will not fit behind the false wall. It's for smaller weaponry."

"Snide bastard. Okay, fine, _now_ what have I picked up?"

"That is one of four twenty-five pound lead weights."

"To be used for what, exactly?"

"Ballast in the trunk so the Camaro doesn't fishtail so much on the wet, muddy roads."

"Ah. So if I'm not mistaken, Steven, all of these items which I found here on the conference room table this morning are modifications or additions you want to make to my car that _you_ drive all the time instead of me, that _you_ take all over Hell's half-acre, which could describe the entirety of this island we're on, and which you deem it necessary to carry a small arsenal inside of that would put smaller countries you've probably invaded in a past life's armies to shame. Do I have it in one?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Then I have just one more question for you, Steven."

"Fire away, Daniel."

"You should not say that to me when I am armed and pissed off at you."

"But that's all day, every day, and most nights, too."

"Point. But you're not changing the subject here, because I want to know what _this_ is, this thing that I've just picked up that I found _on __my __desk_ this morning, McGarrett."

"That would be a set of keys."

"To?"

"A truck."

"A truck. A Chevy, by any chance?"

"Yes."

"All right, I am a detective so, you know, I can figure things out. And what I've figured out here is that you need to keep my car for a few days to make all these modifications that you have deemed one hundred percent necessary to a car you don't even own but seem to mistakenly think you have all rights to, and as such, you are going to offer me the use of your monstrosity of a pickup truck for the duration, am I right?"

"Almost."

"Steven, I am _not_ going to drive your truck. Do you know what kinds of things people think when they see a man who's five-foot-five climb into and out of a truck as huge as the one you own?"

"Um…no?"

"They think a guy like me is trying to overcompensate, Steven. They think that I have this big, huge truck, because they're not going to know it belongs to my partner whose ego outsizes his truck by about ten-fold, no, they're going to think this is _my_ truck as I hike myself up and slide back out and it's tough enough for me to get respect from guys when I'm running after them pointing a gun at them out of the Camaro, but when they see me roll up in that thing of yours, they'll be so busy laughing their asses off and making Pidgin comments about the truck representing something it absolutely does not in any way represent that I won't have to shoot, I'll just have to appear and they'll fall into my lap with sides splitting. Do you understand what I'm saying here, Steven?"

"Yes, but those keys aren't for _my_ truck, they're for a Chevy Colorado."

"The mid-sized pickup."

"Yes."

"Oh."

"I figure at the very least, if you don't wind up wanting to keep it, we can cycle it into the Five-0 pool. I bet Kono would love it."

"I see."

"You do, huh?"

"Yeah, I think so. I still don't get why you won't just stop carrying weapons in my car, or start using your truck instead for our business."

"Well, if I use my truck when we're together, Danno, you'll have the same problems you talked about having if you were to use my truck on your own, only it'll be worse because I'll be there, too."

"You've put quite a lot of thought into this, haven't you?"

"Of course. I want to make sure Grace is safe when you use the Camaro on your weekends with her, and I want to make sure we're loaded for bear when we need to be, and I want to make sure you have a comfortable way to get around while the Camaro's being worked over."

"Huh. Well. Thanks, uh…I guess."

"You're welcome. Now, what say we go take that Colorado for a spin and see what she's got?"

"Do I get to drive?"

"Of course. It's yours."

"And yet somehow that sentiment never applies to the Camaro."

"That's business, Danny. Work."

"Uh-huh. Right."

"Oh, and Danny, by the way?"

"Mm?"

"You don't have anything to overcompensate for."

…

"It's also really endearing when you blush."

"Shut up."


	12. Ways 23 and 24

_Author's Note: I blame this Way entirely on the fact that I accidentally happened upon the movie "For The Boys" with Bette Midler and James Caan this morning, and watching/hearing James Caan sing, well...that was inspiring! (Besides, I know Scott Caan _can_ sing!)_

**Way ****23  
>Be <strong>**forgiving ****when ****she ****offends ****you.**

"I can _sing_."

"Just like you can swim?"

"I c—just forget it."

"Is that…are you honest-to-God _pouting_?"

"Williams men do not pout, Steven."

"That, right there on your face right now, that is most _definitely_ a pout."

"Why are we having this conversation?"

"Because _you_. _Can__'__t_. _Sing._"

"Why the—I can _sing_."

"Prove it."

"Is this like the swimming thing? You won't leave me alone until my entire wardrobe is soaking wet, my shoes are forever ruined and you're _forcing_ me to swim for my _life_?"

"I didn't dump you into the drink, Danny, Kovac did that."

"Actually, partner, one Jacko Brown did that and really, Jacko? Was his mother on _drugs_ when she named that stupid kid?"

"You proved you could swim."

"I did."

"So prove you can sing now, D, come on. We're at a bar. It's karaoke."

"And you're drunk."

"So maybe I won't remember in the morning."

"I'll have you know, my singing isn't something you'll easily forget."

"Because it's so bad?"

"Wipe that smirk off your face, Steven. No, not because it's so bad."

…

"Because it's that _good_."

"Prove it."

"No, you know what? I don't think I will."

"Wait, where are you going?"

"I think I'm just going to let you stew about how I can sing, and I'm going to go home, take a nice, _long_, _hot_, _fifteen-minute _shower to ease the troubles of a shitty day, shitty _week_, and then cozy up to a certain couch and start building a log cabin courtesy of a few well-placed snores."

"Is this because I said you probably sound like a dying cat when you sing?"

"No. This is because there are some things you _don__'__t_ need to know about Detective Danny Williams, sailor boy."

"D! Wait, Dan—oh, hell."

"This is going to bug you for the rest of the night, isn't it, _brah_?"

"No."

"Right."

"Chin…"

"Take it easy. Maybe he just doesn't want to sing in front of _all_ of us, is all."

"I bet he _can__'__t_ sing."

"Lori…"

"What, Kono? Why would he make such a big deal about it if he can?"

"He can _sing_."

"Steve, just a minute ago you kept telling him he _couldn__'__t_."

"If he says he can sing, he can _sing_."

"Fine, geez, don't get your—never mind. I'm going home."

"Ho, Boss, think maybe you ought to go home, you just jumped down Lori's throat."

"She doesn't have the right to question what Danny says, Kono."

"Just _your_ territory, huh?"

…

"Go home. See if you can get Jersey to sing."

"Kono, I—"

"Boss."

"Fine. Fine. _Jesus_."

…

"So, cuz, you think Danny'll do it?"

"I've never seen _anyone_ get under Steve's skin like his partner. If anyone's got the balls to, it's him. Assuming Steve doesn't flip out if Danny's still in the shower when he gets home."

"Fallout tomorrow?"

"You better believe it."

"Well, then. Here's to tomorrow."

* * *

><p><strong>Way 24<br>Show her you need her.**

Kono can't help it. It's like watching a train wreck happening in slow motion. And it's the office, so it's not like they're _trying_ to hide it.

"You're upset about the bazooka."

"No."

She almost snorts at the sidelong glance Steve gives Danny.

"The roof thing."

Danny looks very annoyed.

"No!"

Kono has never seen a grown man gulp before. But Steve does, Adam's apple moving up and down.

"The car!"

Uh-oh. Now Danny's red-faced.

"NO!"

"THEN WHAT?"

Wow. She's never heard Steve actually _yell_ before. Oh, my. Danny's gone _purple_-faced.

"YOU ATE MY LAST MALASADA!"

Steve blinks once.

Kono dissolves into a fit of silent laughter. Just…really? _Really_? She thought Steve wouldn't eat them if his life depended on it.

Danny smooths his hair back with one hand.

There's complete silence.

Steve pulls his hand out from behind his back. There is a brown bag with grease spots in it. Kono narrows her eyes. Her boss _planned_ this, she can _see_ it on his _face_.

Danny gleefully pounces, grabbing the bag and munching on its contents whilst making truly obscene, happy noises.

Steve glows from the inside, a blinding thousand-watt grin firmly in place.

Danny has what Kono can only describe hearts in his eyes as he turns to her and grins, sugar all over his face and shirt and even stuck into the chest hair peeking out from the V of his button-down. He grins wickedly and waggles his eyebrows at her.

"My very own trained SEAL."

Her mouth forms a perfect O in shock, and then…she just…she _can__'__t_.

It's one of those giggling attacks that'll leave her with the hiccups for _hours_.


	13. Ways 25 and 26

**Way ****25  
>Accept <strong>**her ****the ****way ****she ****is; ****discover ****her ****uniqueness ****as ****special.**

Christ, this new partner of his was different, no two ways about it. In fact, Steve was pretty damn sure he'd _never_ encountered anyone like this Danny Williams character. And 'character' was the best way to describe him.

One minute, he's threatening bodily harm. The next, he's openly sharing information from his investigation.

One minute, he's bitching at Steve about procedure. The next, he's saving Steve's and the hostage's life.

One minute, he's on the receiving end of a nifty SEAL move. The next, he's hauling off and socking Steve in the jaw like it isn't possible Steve could've killed him in two seconds flat if he'd really wanted to.

In the end, they'd found Hesse, and once again, Danny had been freaking out one minute, but then the next, had Steve's back on the freighter.

Steve felt like his whole world had been turned on its ear. He'd only returned to Oahu to bury his father and get the man who'd murdered him.

But now that he'd done both, he realized exactly what kind of commitment he'd made. Not just to the governor, but to this new team he'd assembled. And, to someone who was something he'd never had before: a partner.

It was weird how well they'd worked together, Steve never having been anything but either a loner or the member or leader of a team of highly-trained military men. It was weird how he'd felt the short, mouthy, blond guy from New Jersey who honest-to-God _hated_ Hawaii, was the one for the job.

It was also weird how fascinated he was by the man. By his motivations, by how he talked, by how his hands moved. By how his entire body reflected his moods and his thoughts and his words.

Steve McGarrett had a funny feeling, as he unlocked the front door of the house he hadn't been to in a long, long time before this unhappy trip home, that he was in for a very interesting thing as the leader of this task force.

He turned as a car pulled into his driveway, watched as the new partner that had been crowding his thoughts got out of the car and started toward him carrying a six-pack of beer. His tie was still on, loose around his neck, with a couple of buttons of his ridiculous dress shirt undone.

Danny held the six-pack up and out, an offering.

Steve smiled, an acceptance.

Acceptance. Maybe of a lot more than the fact that he'd finally come home. Maybe, in spite of the sorrow in his heart, the noise and light that seemed to follow, surround and emanate from Danny Williams would help somehow.

He wasn't sure _how_, exactly, but as his new partner opened a bottle of beer and handed it to him with a smile and a twinkle in his eye, he was glad he'd gone with his gut on this one.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: Way 26 is a companion piece to Way 25.<em>

**Way 26  
>Admit your mistakes; don't be afraid to be humble.<strong>

Danny didn't _like_ admitting he was wrong. Hell, what man did, you know? But maybe, just _maybe_, he was willing to concede – only to himself, mind you – that he'd been wrong about Steve McGarrett.

Just a little bit, anyway.

Maybe.

Sure, the guy was certifiable. He wondered if Chin Ho and Kono knew what they were getting into, because Danny could very _clearly_ see what they were _all_ getting into.

McGarrett was dangerous at best, downright psychotic at worst, at least in Danny's mind.

The guy did shit you didn't see in action movies, let alone as a cop. Who ever heard of taking your partner down in the middle of a group of cops with some weird freaky ninja move? Who ever heard of driving a goddamn squad car onto the deck of a friggin' _ship_? And really, why did he have to actually _tell_ the guy to apologize for getting him _shot_? _After_ he'd told him they needed backup, no less, and then the man had said _he_ was the backup?

What the actual _fuck_, right?

And yet.

Danny _had_ backed him up.

He'd disclosed all the information he had on his investigation to date. He'd led Steve to Doran, and then he'd killed the man without a second thought when Steve's and that hostage's life had been threatened.

Only to be berated for what he'd done. _"__You __shot __my __only __lead!__"_

Boy, it had felt good to deck the asshole.

He'd kept at it, stayed with him. Even after Mr. Navy had run ramshod all over Danny's investigation, stolen the case from him, pulled rank and commandeered Danny's _life_.

But here Danny was, pulling into the driveway, remembering walking in to find John McGarrett dead in a pool of blood, half his head blown away. He'd checked into McGarrett's family, of course, as part of his initial look into the world of the former police officer. He'd read all about Steven J. and Mary Ann. He'd known of their mother's death, and their subsequent departure from Hawaii.

He'd known a hell of a lot about Steve before meeting over guns in that garage, and something had grabbed hold of him when those intense eyes, that laser focus had been directed his way. He married what he'd read in the files with the man who stood before him, this highly-decorated and lifelong military man.

Killing machine, is what Danny called him in the privacy of his own mind.

But he wasn't. Not really. There'd been that moment, when he'd come in all messed up and handed Danny a gift for himself and Gracie. A killing machine would show such kindness to a man who did nothing but give him shit from the moment they'd pointed their guns at each other?

No, something else was at work here, and Danny figured working for a guy who wanted him enough to _force_ him to work with him, was better than sticking around HPD where the only one who didn't think he was a jack-off mainlander was Meka. Chin Ho and Kono didn't seem to mind his blond hair and blue eyes and bigger-than-life personality either, at least, not that he could tell.

They were a band of misfits, he thought, as he held out the six-pack toward this new and strange man he now called partner.

When Steve smiled, it seemed like years melted away from his face, and Danny knew grief, okay, he knew it personally and professionally, and he knew Steve wouldn't recover from his dad's death so quickly. He knew that what had gone down would haunt McGarrett, possibly for the rest of his life.

But he liked that smile, and he liked how it seemed that for just a few seconds, Steve more resembled a normal human being than a crazed man hell-bent on seeking revenge.

So maybe Danny had been a little bit wrong in his assessment of this guy, he thought, as he popped the top off a beer and handed it to Steve. He figured only time would tell.

And, he figured, maybe sometimes it was okay to be wrong.


	14. Ways 27 and 28

**Way ****27  
>Defend <strong>**her ****to ****others.**

"What…oh, God…what did you do? Steven? What did you do?"

"Nothing."

"Bullshit. Rachel calls me, tells me I need to pick Grace up from school because she has to go to the _hospital_, Steven."

"Is she okay? The baby?"

"I don't—yes, I don't _know_, I mean, she's fine, I think she's fine, she's going to the hospital because _Stan_ was taken there, he got beat _up_ by someone who moved so fast he couldn't even identify them, and—Steve, do _not_ shut down with that blank look."

"Danny—"

"What happened, huh? What did you _do_, I _told_ you not to worry about—"

"Danny, he threatened to take _Grace_—"

"I _know_ what he threatened to do, I was standing there nose-to-nose with the gigantic asshole in case you've forgotten! Christ, this isn't the goddamn middle of nowhere, although I'll grant you it's close. Steve, this is civilized _society_, you can't just go beat guys up because they threaten to take your partner to court _again_—"

"That's not all, Danny."

"What? Whaddya mean, that's not all? Steve? Oh, no, you don't get to turn away from me right now, what the hell…what would make you go to that worksite and beat Stan Edwards to within an inch of his life, Steve, huh?"

"I didn't beat him to within an inch of his life, Danny, no, _no_, it's _my_ turn to talk, dammit! I went there just to _talk_ to him, that's all."

"And it devolved into ninja moves directed at my daughter's stepfather."

"He was on the phone when I came up behind him. He didn't know I was there."

"You with the stealth moves. Hey. Hey, Steve, come on, what? He was on the phone…and? What's that look? You don't want to tell me, is that it? Well, tough _shit_, McGarrett, because you've gone and _hurt_ someone in my baby's life and that—"

"He was going to take them _away_, Danny. Away from _here_. From _Hawaii_."

"Wh-what?"

"He was making arrangements to take Rachel and Grace to England. For _good_, Danny, talking to his office."

"_What?_"

"I listened for over ten minutes."

"England?"

"When he hung up, I confronted him."

"Wait, he…he told HPD he didn't see who attacked him."

"He lied."

"Why would he lie? Why not just have you arrested and fuck my life over _completely_?"

"Because if he knows what's good for him, he will never, _ever_ screw with you again, or me. My fist connected with his nose, Danny, that was the _only_ beating he got, and it was only because he…he said…_shit_."

"He said shit?"

"Danny, just drop it."

"No. No, I will _not_ drop it, Steve. I appreciate you trying to keep him from taking my daughter, Jesus _Christ_, to _England_, but…Steve, seriously, if that's all you did was punch him in the nose, at least tell me _why_. What did he _say_?"

"He said there was no way he'd let a man who'd sleep with another man's wife near _his_ daughter ever again, never mind the new baby."

…

"Danny? Hey…Danny."

"_His_…he said…he called Grace…"

"And when I reminded him whose daughter she actually is, he asked if I was…if you were, you know…you and I…"

"He thinks…what the ever-loving…_but __why_?"

"He said the only reason you didn't go with Rachel that night, you know, back to New Jersey, was…well, he said you and I have a…you know. He said at eight o'clock in the morning, the only reason I'd be at your place is that we have a...thing."

"Thing."

"Yeah."

"Let me get this straight: One, you heard Step-Stan arranging to move my daughter even further away from me than he did the first time. Two, he knocked my moral values which, truthfully, I don't have a leg to stand on with that one, okay? Three, he implied that you and I are _involved, _never mind that you're at my place earlier than that most days to pick me up for work and what, he made some sort of homophobic remark and said it would hurt Grace and Rachel and yadda yadda yadda, am I right?"

"In a nutshell."

"Shit, Steve, I…you shouldn't…look, thank you for, you know, wanting to help me out, I mean, it's not the first time, so I'm not really surprised here, but…"

"Danny, I couldn't let him say that shit, start going down the road of making false accusations just to get Rachel and Grace away from you!"

…

…

"Or to get _me_ away from _you_."

"What?"

"You know where Gracie goes, I follow. Yeah, okay, okay, you know, I know."

"Danny, he…I don't think he'll take them away now. I don't think he'll try to keep Grace from you on the grounds of your moral whatever now, okay? So just…let's forget it, all right?"

"No, Steven. I'm _not_ going to forget it. Because if it works, this talk you had with him that involved your fist, well…I just can't forget that, okay? No matter _what _your motivations were."

"My motivation is protecting you, Danny. Same as I protect Chin and Kono and anyone else that's part of my _ohana_."

"And Grace."

"_Especially_ Grace. She doesn't get a say in anything, and I know what that's like, you know? I didn't get a say either when I was sent away, and it's not fair to Grace to take you from her, or to try to. To slander your name, your reputation, so the kids at school give her shit about who her father is, to use false accusations to keep her away from you just because... I won't let _anyone_ do that her, especially not a pussy like Stan _Edwards_."

"Hey, babe, hey, calm down, okay? You know, normally your daddy issues drive me insane but I gotta say, in this case? I'm kinda glad you have 'em. Don't glare at me, I mean it. Okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

"You know, this could come back to bite us in the ass down the road if Stan suddenly grows a set and spills the beans about you being the one who busted his nose."

"Stuff comes up to bite us in the ass all the time. So far, we've gotten through it."

"You, McGarrett…there…there are just no words for you, you know that? Come here."

"A hug, Danny? I keep you from leaving this pineapple-infested hellhole and you get all mushy on me?"

"Shut up. Come with me to get Grace. Thanks to you, I still can."

* * *

><p><strong>Way 28<br>Allow your wife to fail; discuss what went wrong after you've comforted her.**

Steve saw this one coming like a Mack truck barreling toward you at a hundred miles per hour on a one-lane road. To be fair, he never saw things coming at him this clearly in his _own_ life, but maybe that was how these things worked. Maybe it was easy to see when it was someone _else__'__s_ private hell, even though you were too often blinded to your own personal shitstorms waiting on the horizon.

But things with Danny and Rachel? Oh, yeah. He'd known from Day One that Danny wasn't over his ex-wife, and as much as Danny had spoken the truth when saying he'd come to Hawaii to be near Grace, Steve could read between the lines and knew it didn't hurt that Rachel was always and forever attached to the little girl, in spite of the fact that Rachel was remarried.

It wasn't hard to understand why once Steve had met Rachel. She was beautiful, she was smart, she was brave. She was everything he would expect a man like Danny to have in his life, and from what Rachel had said that first time while Steve and Danny were staking out the house next door from her bedroom, Rachel's whole problem had been Danny's _job_, not necessarily Danny himself.

Who knew why two people broke up, anyway, and it wasn't really any of Steve's business to begin with. So even though he considered Danny to be his closest friend, each time something happened that seemed to bring Danny and Rachel closer together, he stayed silent, though he could see the writing on the wall.

Because he was a lot like Danny in that if anyone told him not to do something he _wanted_ or _needed_ to do, he'd just shut down and go ahead and do it anyway, no matter how much they nagged him. Or maybe in _spite_ of it. So when he'd found Rachel sleeping in Danny's hospital bed after the sarin incident, he'd been surprised, and yet not. When Danny had told him it'd been going on for a while, he'd been surprised, and yet not.

And later, after getting out of prison, the defeat on Danny's face and in his eyes, in the way his shoulders hunched and his whole body just reeked of 'miserable,' Steve once again was surprised, and yet not.

Not surprised that Danny had slept with his ex-wife, a married woman. Rachel equaled Grace equaled love equaled family. He got it, he really did.

Not surprised that Danny had been going to go back to Jersey and sure, that he would've come back to wrap things up, but that would've been the end of things and he would've been gone, five thousand miles away from Hawaii and Five-0. Away from Steve. Still, he got it, he really, really did.

But Danny had stayed. He'd foregone going _home_ with the two loves of his life and the promise of a third on the way. He'd stayed because Steve fucked up and let himself be led into a trap that ended with a dead public official and his own former teammate hauling him off to jail.

No job, no Rachel, no Grace. And then, no new baby, when the truth had come out about whose it was.

In the aftermath, Steve tried not to bring it up. He could see and feel the pain written in every line and muscle of Danny's body. Feel the shattered heart, hear the disappointment in every uttered word. See the way it was royally fucking Danny up when he started acting like someone Steve had never even met in the weeks after their world had blown all to hell.

But it was times like these, when they tried for some semblance of normalcy by hanging out in the beach chairs, bare toes digging into wet sand as the waves rolled gently and quietly in, when it was really difficult to _not_ say anything.

Steve would never judge his friend. After all, much of Steve's time in the Navy had seen him doing things of questionable legality _and_ morality, all in the name of honor, duty and country. What Danny had done, he'd done for _love_, and whole wars had started because of that single emotion.

So all Steve could do, when Danny turned sad eyes his way and tried to smile, was reach out and take his hand. He meant to only squeeze it, use the gesture to say hey, bro, I'm here for you no matter what. You were here for me and I'm here for you. And yes, selfishly, he was glad Danny _hadn__'__t_ gone back to New Jersey. That the baby wasn't Danny's, because it meant Rachel and Grace had returned to Hawaii to be a family with Stan again.

It kept Danny here. At least for now.

He'd meant to let go of Danny's hand. He really had. But Danny had returned the grip like a vice. Like he'd been waiting for this very thing, waiting for Steve to offer to ground him in his off-kilter and fucked-up world.

He wasn't sure how long they sat there holding hands; Danny hadn't let go of him for a long, long time that night. And in the weeks that followed, Danny's attitude turned completely around. He was more his old self again, and Steve sighed in universal relief.

If Steve had known all it would take was that simple gesture, he would've done it that first day out of Halawa. But now that he knew, he was constantly on the lookout for Danny's tells, and if he laid a hand on his partner's forearm, or tapped his ankle with his foot under the table, or bumped shoulders with him every now and again, well…he felt it was the least he could do.


	15. Ways 29 and 30

**Way ****29  
>Rub <strong>**her ****feet ****or ****neck ****after ****a ****hard ****day.**

"Jesus, fuck, McGarrett, your hands are like _ice_!"

"Well, y-you're the one who a-always said I-I couldn't hack the c-c-cold, Dan-nn-no."

"I was _kidding_, didn't you ever go on SEAL missions in, I don't know, Antarctica or some shit?"

"Hah, n-no."

"You're shivering way too hard, babe, come on, come here, the fire trucks will be here in no time, they'll have us out of this drift soon."

"That's what you said t-t-two hours ag-go."

"They're probably having a hard time finding us, the snow around here is _deep_. Come here, come here, Christ, you overgrown goddamn tree."

"S-stop manhandling me."

"Stop pouting, shut up and come _here_."

"N-Not that k-kinda girl, Dan-no."

"Not dignifying that with a response, Super SEAL. Here, now, your fingers will be frostbit soon if you don't warm your hands up, here, stick 'em under my pits. Do _not_ make man-child faces at me, McGarrett, at least I'm not asking you to stick 'em down my pants."

"Oh, G-God."

"I thought that'd get you moving. How are your feet?"

"Huh?"

"What, your brain freeze, too? Feet, McPainInMyAss, _feet_, can you feel them?"

"Uh…don't th-think so."

"All right, okay, I've got to get your feet warmed up, too, how is this…your feet better not stink."

"Too c-cold to s-sssstink."

"Slurring. Not good, my friend. Guess they don't train you for _everything_ in that Navy of yours, huh?"

"Wasn't d-dressed for sudden deep freeze."

"Yeah, and in Jersey, no less. You'll never let me hear the end of this. It's like that flick _The __Day __After __Tomorrow_ only somehow I don't think either one of us qualifies as a scientist with expertise on sudden arctic snaps."

"Hawaii's much…much…"

"Hey, hey there, come on, I am willingly touching your _feet_, here, the _least_ you can do is stay awake to hear me bitch about it!"

"Soothing."

"Say what? Oh, man, are your feet cold."

"Voice, Danno. Soothing."

"Me? _My_ voice? Soothing? Ohmagod, you've got brain damage, don't you?"

"Ha, uh, no, no, don't thinkssssooo."

"Oh, boy, come on, Steve, come on, let's get the toes warmed up, can you feel my hands?"

"Hot."

"My hands are hot."

"Umm…nnn..noo. Yes, feels good."

"Okay, so you're making even less sense than usual. Talk to me, Steve, come on. Tell me about a mission."

"Classified."

"You are an ass."

"C-can't feel that e-either."

"Yeah, well even _I_ have my limits. Mission. Top Secret. Go."

"Class—"

"_Fuck_ classified, you're turning into a Stevesicle here, and I'm saving you from having all your extremities amputated before the guys with actual working heaters get here, so you're going to goddamn well tell me about a mission right now or I'll _let_ your toes turn black!"

"Hff! Missed one extremit…y…"

"McGarrett, that's _one_ extremity I am _not_…McGarrett? Steve? Hey, hey, Steve? Shit. You do _not_ get to do this to me! No passing out, I'm sorry I brought you here, okay? I'll say it, I'll say it myself, New Jersey in December _sucks __ass_, okay? It totally sucks and I'm never going to bring you here again no matter _how_ good my mother's Christmas roast is and I promise I will _never_ say Jersey's better than Hawaii. Hawaii is _far_ superior, my friend, sunshine and beaches and warm water, okay? Steve, come on, buddy, come on, wake up."

...

"G-g-got you."

"Do you have any idea how much I hate you right about now?"

"Nah…l-love me, Danno."

"Yeah, well…don't tell anybody."

"As if."

"Hey, you hear that? It's the fire engine, I can hear the sirens! I've got the flare set out there, they'll be here any second, okay? So you hold on for me. Just hold on. Here, let me get some feeling back into your arms, shoulders, neck…here, come on, Steve, stay awake, you're too goddamn gargantuan to expect these poor guys to drag you out on their own, come _on_."

"Good mass—sssssage."

"I'm not giving you a massage, Christ, you are _infuriating_."

"B-but you l-love me."

"You're insufferable."

"Y-you rubbed my f-feet."

"All right, fine. Feet-rubbing not a traditional thing to do with your best friend."

"Besssst f-friend?"

"You think I let just _anyone_ taste my mother's cooking? Idiot."

"Awww, D. You sssay the sweetest thingsss."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: For some insane reason, Way 30 insisted upon being a companion piece to Way 29. Swear to God, IHNFC…DM me if you need that spelled out. *wink*<em>

**Way 30  
>Go on romantic outings.<strong>

"How many times do I have to tell you, Denise, that was _not_ a romantic outing! We were driving back to Mom and Pop's from _skiing_."

"Yeah, and who's the last person you took skiing at Camelback, huh, bro? In the frickin' _Poconos_? People _honeymoon_ in the Poconos! Jack and _I __honeymooned_ at Caeaser's Pocono Palace, for Christ's sake!"

"Denise."

"Daniel."

"I will tell you this one time. And one time only. Are you listening? Do _not_ roll your eyes, they'll stick that way. Are. You. Listening."

"Yes!"

"Steve is my partner."

"Ha, see?"

"_Work_ _partner_, _God_ I hate sisters!"

"Jerk-off."

"You are as infantile as he is, I swear to—"

"Mr. Williams?"

"Yes, yeah, that's me."

"I'm Dr. James. Mr. McGarrett is up for visitors now."

"How's he doing?"

"I think you spared him from actually getting frostbite. You triaged well, Mr. Williams."

"Awww, you saved his life, Danny. That's _very_ romantic."

"You. You are going home, and you are going _now_. You will tell our mother and our father that I will _not_ be back tonight."

"You're spending the _night_ here? With _him_?"

"Yes, all right? He's in a strange hospital in a strange state. This isn't like Hawaii where we know everyone on staff by name, this is…it's different."

"Uh-huh."

"Shut up."

"Want me to bring your teddy bear? Oh, no, wait…you already _have_ your teddy bear, and he's what, six feet tall?"

"If you do not leave right now, Denise Margaret Williams Marshall, so help me _God_, you will be staying overnight here courtesy of my—"

"Mouth? Over it, Danny, have a good night with your man."

"He is _not_ my…oh, why do I even _bother_?"

"Siblings?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sorry, Dr. James. My sister. My insufferable, pain-in-the-ass, loud-mouthed sister who's probably going to have it all over town about an hour from now that Steve's…never mind. Lead the way, lead the way."

"You know, Mr. Williams, I have to admit I was mistaken as to the nature of yours and Mr. McGarrett's relationship as well."

"What? You didn't even _see_ us together, you only saw him in the Emergency Room. What would've given you the idea?"

"Well, it was something Mr. McGarrett said, actually. Here, come on, just down this way."

"Oh, God. Do I really want to know what he said?"

"Well, in his defense, he wasn't that coherent at the time, but…well…he kept saying something about you promising to keep his nether region extremities – and I'm paraphrasing there – warm in Hawaii while you were giving him a massage."

…

"Mr. Williams? Uh, Mr. Williams, this is Mr. McGarrett's room. Mr. Williams?"

"Clear another bed in that room."

"What? Why?"

"Because I am having an honest-to-God rage blackout and this, my good doctor, is gonna get ugly."

"Uh…Mr. Will—oh, oh, boy. Maybe you shouldn't—"

…!

"Uh…slam the door. Um…oh, dear..."


	16. Ways 31 and 32

**Way ****31  
>Write <strong>**her ****a ****letter ****occasionally, ****telling ****her ****how ****much ****you ****love ****her.**

"What are you doing there, Monkey?"

"I'm writing a letter."

"Oh, really? I thought everybody did that by email these days."

"They do usually, Danno, but Uncle Steve doesn't have access to email."

"It's for Uncle Steve, huh?"

"Mmhm. Mrs. Nakamura asked us on Monday how many of us had family members who'd been sent to fight in the Middle East, and all of us did, Danno, every single one!"

"You…raised your hand?"

"Yeah. I told everyone that Uncle Steve was part of my _ohana_ and my dad's partner in Five-0, and that the Navy made him go over there to bring the bad guys to justice."

"Well, you're right on all counts."

"I know. Anyway, Mrs. Nakamura says our only homework assignment for this week is write a letter to our loved one who's overseas, and that she will put them all together and work with the local military bases to see that each of our letters is delivered."

"That might be kind of hard with Uncle Steve. You know he's usually doing things that means he's nowhere near a post office."

"I know, and I even told Mrs. Nakamura that Uncle Steve does very high top secret stuff for the SEALs, but you know what she said?"

"What?"

"She said even very high top secret SEALs deserve to be reminded they have loved ones waiting for them at home."

"Mrs. Nakamura is a wise woman."

"Danno? Will you write a letter to Uncle Steve, too? I'll put it with mine in one envelope, and then nobody will ever know. You know, in case you're not supposed to communicate with him."

"Grace Williams, you're ten years old going on thirty, you know that?"

"Huh?"

"Never mind. Sure, sure, I'll write him a letter. You have to have this done by tonight?"

"Yep. Mrs. Nakamura's collecting all the letters from us tomorrow. All the other classes decided to do it, too, and if any of the children don't have family members or anyone they know deployed, their letters are going to go to men and women who don't have anyone in our school, so that as many of them as possible get letters from us."

"You think maybe the rest of our _ohana_ might want to write to Steve, too? Maybe we could put them all in your envelope?"

"It'd make it kind of a full envelope, and then they might know I'm not the only one who wrote to him. Maybe you can all write something on the same piece of paper?"

"You are smart."

"I know."

"Humble, too, geez. Okay. Let me give everyone else a call and see if we can find them this afternoon, so we can get them all to write something before I have to take you back to your mom's. You finish your letter and we'll see where we stand then, all right?"

"Okay."

* * *

><p>"Can you believe it, Commander? The whole <em>school<em> actually got involved! They even sent letters to those of us who don't have anyone _in_ that school that we're related to."

"It's a good school."

"Did you get one?"

"No."

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that, Commander. See you around."

"Yeah."

"Lieutenant Commander McGarrett?"

"Yes?"

"Lieutenant Diggins, sir. You heard about those letters from that private school in Honolulu?"

"Yes, Lieutenant Tam was just telling me about it."

"You're from there, aren't you? Wait, never mind, I know, we're not supposed to know. Anyway, the one I got from a kid I don't know? It was stuck to a second envelope. Here. It's addressed to you."

"Thanks."

"Sure thing. Enjoy!"

…

…

_Dear __Uncle __Steve,_

_ I __wasn__'__t __sure __what __to __say __to __you. __I __know __you__'__re __doing __a __very __dangerous __and __very __important __job __right __now, __but __I __didn__'__t __want __you __to __be __lonely __while __you __were __doing __it. __So __I__'__m __writing __to __you __and __sending __you __this __school __picture __I __just __got. __Mom __said __I __could __give __one __to __you. __I __hope __you __like __it, __and __carry __it __in __one __of __those __pockets __that __you __have __all __over __your __pants __that __Danno __always __makes __fun __of. __That __way __when __you__'__re __hiding __from __the __bad __guys, __you __aren__'__t __hiding __alone._

_ Please __come __home __safe, __Uncle __Steve. __I __love __you._

_ Grace __Williams_

* * *

><p><em>Hey, <em>Brah_!_

_ You __got __to __come __try __my __new __flavor __of __shave __ice. __I __combined __the __best __of __both __worlds, __garlic __shrimp __flavor. __It__'__s __a __hit __with __the _bruddahs_. __Get __back __here __so __you __can __taste __test, __yeah?_

_ Kamekona_

* * *

><p><em>Steve,<em>

_ Danny __is __a __dictator. __Please __don__'__t __make __us __endure __this __any __longer __than __necessary. __I __can__'__t __even __get __a __new __iPad __under __him! Seriously, hope you're back soon._

_ Chin_

* * *

><p><em>Boss <em>_Man!_

_ Danny __won__'__t __let __me __play __with __your __private __stash __of __weapons. __The __guy __seriously __needs __to __take __a __chill __pill. __I __think __he __just __misses __you, __but __he __doesn__'__t __need __to __take __it __out __on __my __need __for __BAMF! __Be __safe, __Steve._

_ Kono_

* * *

><p><em>Steven,<em>

_ Do not listen to these people, they are not right in the head. All except Grace, of course, who is perfect beyond words. This was all her idea. I'm not much for writing, but I can't say no to her._

_ Kono thinks she's a female you, and Chin wants to leave at five o'clock every day now that he's got Malia to go home to. Kamekona…that's just disgusting, I have no words for that monstrosity he tried to make me eat. I couldn't get hold of Lori, I think she's avoiding me since the handcuff incident. It was innocent, I swear to _God_._

_ I don't want your job, by the way, so get your ass back home and you can have it. I'll even gift wrap it. Don't do anything I wouldn't do. Wait, who am I kidding, I forgot who I was talking to._

_ Danny_

_P.S. – Bet you thought you weren't getting a letter, right? Moron._

* * *

><p>"Commander McGarrett? Sir, is there anything wrong?"<p>

"No, nothing wrong. Just…give me a sec."

"Yessir, I'll be just outside."

"Thanks. Wait, Lieutenant?"

"Yessir?"

"How were these letters delivered? Is the person who brought them still here?"

"I'm not sure, sir, but I'll find out for you. Big news from back home?"

"No, Lieutenant, nothing out of the ordinary. Just…_ohana_."

"O-what?"

"Never mind."

"Whatever they said, it must've been pretty special judging by the look on your face. Sir."

"It wasn't _what_ they said, Lieutenant. It's the fact that they said it. As you were, I need two minutes."

"I understand, sir. And…Commander?"

"What?"

"I didn't get a letter. Just…you're a lucky man."

"Yeah. I am."

* * *

><p><em>Author<em>_'__s __Note: __Okay, __this __seems __to __be __happening __more __and __more. __Way __32 __is __a __companion __piece __to __Way __31._

**Way 32  
>Surprise her with a card or flowers.<strong>

"Mr. Daniel Williams?"

"Yes, that's me."

"I'm from _Manua_ Courier, sir. I need you to sign here for something."

"What? What is it?"

"It appears to be a card, sir."

"Okay, sure, here. There you go. Thanks."

"No problem, sir, have a good day."

"Huh. Now what could this be? It just says my name and address on the envelope. No postage, no telling where it's from. Weird. Okay, well, let's open it up, here we go. What…a blank white card? Nothing on it, what the heck? All right, let's see if there's anything on the insi—"

_**I'M OKAY, DANNO.**_

"Always have to get the last word in, don't you, McGarrett?"

"Danny? Hey, you oka—you…are you crying?"

"What? No. I'm fine. Never mind."

"What's that?"

"Nothing, Kono, it's—hey!"

"Oh, my God. He sent this."

"Yeah, I guess he must've. Mmph. Hey, what's with the hug? Not that I'm complaining."

"I'll tell Chin."

"Yeah. Yeah, you do that. I'm going to call Grace and let her know."

"Hey, Danny?"

"Mm?"

"He'll be home soon."

"Yeah. Now, looking at this, maybe I can actually believe that."


	17. Ways 33 and 34

****_Author's Note: Way 33 contains significant spoilers for Season 2, Episode 7 "Ka Iwi Kapu."_

**Way ****33  
>Express <strong>**how ****proud ****you ****are ****of ****her.**

Steve heard a loud slapping sound, a bang and then a string of curses that would've made any one of his former SEAL teammates blush. Given that his office door was closed at the time, and it was still that loud, he knew he needed to investigate.

Lori and Chin were gathered around the tech table in the bullpen, while Kono was standing in the doorway to her office. All eyes were on Danny's closed office door. He'd drawn his blinds; that in and of itself was unusual.

Steve frowned as his teammates' eyes turned to him. He raised a questioning eyebrow. The looks they returned his way told him they knew, but weren't going to be the ones to tell him, what had happened. Rachel, maybe? Giving him a hard time about something? Wanting to take Grace away during scheduled visitation, possibly?

Who knew?

Steve put on his best game face, walked to Danny's office and rapped his knuckles on the door. There was no response. He turned to look at the others, but they'd all gone back to pretending to pay attention to whatever they were working on, leaving him swinging in the breeze.

Well, as both task force leader and Danny's partner, it _was_ his job, after all.

He opened the door and did a visual recon. Danny was seated at his desk, looking far more rumpled than he should for nine on a Monday morning. On his desk was a newspaper that had been ripped with pieces balled into both his fists. His face was twisted in a manner Steve hadn't ever seen before, not in all the time he'd known him.

"Danny, what's up?" he finally asked, sliding inside and shutting the door behind him. He leaned over the desk to look at the newspaper as Danny looked up at him and relaxed his hands.

"I fucked up. I fucked up and now it's all over the island that I fucked up."

"Not following you, D," Steve said, sitting down in Danny's guest chair.

"What's Gracie going to think? What's _Rachel_ going to think? No, wait, I _know_ what she thinks. I'll bet Grace gets made fun of at school, and then there's you…_all_ of you…"

"Danny, just slow down here. What the heck are you talking about?"

Danny picked up the newspaper – or, what was left of it – and turned it around so it was upright to Steve, then slapped it down on the desk. Ah. That had been the slapping sound he'd heard earlier. Steve leaned forward and was able to see part of a headline: **FIVE-0 ****FAUX ****PAS**

Steve frowned, picked up the paper, and realized half the story was in shreds around Danny's hands. He looked to Danny, whose jaw was set, eyes fixed on the wall to Steve's right. "What's the article about?"

"It's recounting what I did at the _heiau_," Danny said, quietly, his shoulders slumping.

"And?" Steve prompted, having a feeling he knew exactly where this was headed.

"And it basically paints us all as either a bunch of _haoles_ or _haole_ wannabes who have no respect for Hawaiian culture or tradition and calls me things that, frankly, I didn't know were legal to put in print."

Danny looked at Steve, finally, only to find concern written all over his partner's face.

"It's everywhere else, too," Danny groused, jamming his fingers at his keyboard and rough-handling the mouse. "I don't have Facebook or Twitter, but all you have to do is Google my name or Five-0 and Hawaii and _heiau_ and bam, five pages of reblogs and articles all over the U.S. and probably beyond." He picked up the mouse and threw it. It clattered off the top of the desk, and fell off, where it wound up strangling by its tail in a gentle sway from the back of the desktop tower. "Dammit."

"Hey, we'll figure out damage control, okay?"

"The governor's aide's already been on the phone with me _three __times_ this morning, Steve. They've issued a statement of apology on behalf of Five-0, but now the local group that started the whole thing's saying they won't accept the damn apology. They want _me_ to apologize personally to every member of the _Heiau_ Preservation Society!"

"Why do I not know about this?"

"Because you've been testifying in court since eight? I bet you never even turned your cell phone back on."

Steve cut his eye at Danny, pulled out his cell phone, and made a "Tsk" sound when he realized Danny knew him only too well. "Ouch. Eight missed phone calls and six voice mails."

"I didn't mean to disrespect Hawaiians like that, Steve," Danny said, his voice small. "Everything was just so…you know. I mean, with Rachel and my living arrangements and Grace…well…shit. I acted in the heat of the moment; it just seemed so stupid at the time to not investigate a crime scene that was _right __there_ on a piece of ground that's only considered sacred because of what someone else did to it before the murder."

"I know, Danny. And just for the record, I don't agree with how you acted, stepping into the _heiau_ before the priest arrived. I don't know how much stock I put in these things; I've been too many places around the world and seen too many religions to think they're _all_ right. But it's where I live and it's the place I love, so…"

Steve shrugged as Danny met his gaze.

"Well, I've learned my lesson. The problem is, I've probably also lost my job. Or at the very least, what little respect I had finally started getting from Hawaiians as the Jersey cop transplant."

"We'll figure out a way to deal with it, and no one's losing their job over one incident like this."

"You can't say that for sure, Steve. This governor's got tighter hold of the reins than the last one." Danny leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes and puffed out a breath. "I don't know what to do."

"Leave it at the governor's statement for now, okay?"

"How can I? Rachel saw it on the news; she's all over me, down my throat about how this will affect Grace—"

"Well, sometimes the only way to make sure people understand you is to tell them in person. Maybe you should see if Rachel will let you talk to her and Grace in person after school today."

"My daughter won't ever stop loving me, or believing in me, I know this to the bottom of my toes. But the kids at her fancy rich-family school? Kids are _mean_, McGarrett. Nasty."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"What? How would _you_ know anything about bullies and teasing? You were the all-star quarterback!"

"Yeah, and a gangly geek and nerd off the football field, not to mention I was the shortest kid in my class until the summer between eighth and ninth grade when I went from five-foot-five to six feet in three months."

"You were actually my height once?"

"For two years, Danno. All the other guys were head-and-shoulders above me, so yeah, I know a little about how mean kids can be. And how they're ready to be your best friend when you win the homecoming game, but the first time someone accuses you of cheating on a Chem final because you were the only kid who got a hundred percent, they're all demanding your removal from the team."

"Are you _serious_?"

"Yep. Luckily my coach didn't give a rat's ass what everyone said, and the Chem teacher knew I hadn't cheated just from having been there in the room when I was taking the test. It's kind of like you at the _heiau_. You didn't exactly bad-mouth anyone or anything in particular, you just didn't agree that you needed to wait to work a crime scene, and you scoffed at what we were telling you. The fact that it was a set of religious beliefs that was trying to keep you from doing your job just added to the rest of your stress and you broke a little."

"Broke a little, huh?"

"Yeah, that's what I'd call it."

"You're a real _mensch_, Steve, but how's any of this going to help our image?"

"It'll blow over eventually, Danny. After all, we've already helped a lot of native Hawaiians and Chinese, Korean, _haoles_…you name it, Five-0's had a case where we either took down guys who could cause harm to the people of Hawaii, or helped people who needed it. We just have to keep doing our job, let the group who started all this bullshit keep yelling until their voices are gone, and continue to do what we do best."

"I disrespect a group of people, hell, a whole island's _culture_, and just like that, you forgive me?"

Steve eyed his partner. "It's not my forgiveness you need, Danno, it's more the spirits of the dead who'd be looking for that. I don't agree with how you acted, but I don't just drop people like hot potatoes when they disappoint me. When they try to _kill_ me, maybe, but not disappoint me."

Danny's face seemed to fall even more than it had been before, as if hearing about Steve's disappointment in him was somehow worse than all the rest of it rolled together. Steve recognized it for what it was, stood and walked over to his partner, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"But I understand, and the fact that _you_ understand is all that matters to me."

Danny looked up at him. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Danno, I'm proud of you, of _all_ of us and the work we do here. I have no reason _not_ to be, in spite of what happened at the _heiau_, because I know it won't ever happen again."

"You got _that_ right."

"We could always perform a cleansing ritual, to try and appease the disturbed spirits."

Danny frowned. It was on the tip of his tongue to say something crass, Steve could see it. But then he watched the shorter man swallow it down like the words were something tangible, and nod. "Maybe you'll tell me what's involved in that."

Steve grinned. "Maybe I will. Now come on, let's go do our job and just…don't look at the computer or the newspapers for a while. Besides, I have a feeling the Five-0 Fan Club might come out with a statement of their own in our defense."

"Oh, God, _them_? You know all they want is to get inside your cargo pants!"

Steve laughed out loud as Danny rose to his feet, secured his gun and badge to his belt, and smoothed his somewhat wrinkled shirt. "Not _all_ of them, Danny! But they're loyal. We affected them all in some positive way, and they'll defend us to their dying day because of it. So don't _worry_ about it, okay? And if anyone says anything to you, ignore them. All right? We'll go see Grace after work."

"We, huh?"

"I know more about the _heiau_ than you do, so if Gracie has any questions, I can be there to help educate her. Maybe educate _both_ of you."

"Yeah," Danny said with a nod, scratching at the stubble on his cheeks with his fingertips. "Yeah, okay."

"Come on. We need to find someone for you to book."

"We got anything on the leader of that damn group that posted the first article to begin with?"

"Danno, you shock me. An officer of the law and all." Steve followed up his remark with a sly wink.

Danny couldn't quite hide his grin as he tossed the Camaro's keys to his partner. "Shut up, McGarrett, and drive."

* * *

><p><strong>Way 34<br>Tell her how much you appreciate her.**

Danny was alive thanks to his partner.

He was alive because of the insanity he'd been bitching about since their first day together.

He was alive because Steve took too many risks.

Because Steve would sacrifice his very life to protect his team.

Because Steve is a goddamn SEAL and trained to do whatever it takes to accomplish the objective.

But now Danny's not so sure Steve's going to stay alive to hear him acknowledge this.

And he's not so sure that Steve will stick around to hear Danny's sincere thanks for being so insane.

He's not sure he wants to be alive if it's only thanks to Steve McGarrett's death that he is.

But Steve _will_ survive.

Because Danny will sacrifice his very life to protect his partner when he's down.

Because Danny is a goddamn Jersey-trained cop, and will do whatever it takes to help people and save lives.

To have his partner's back.

They may be stuck in a situation that seems impossible, and Steve may be down, but Danny's got a little girl to get home to, and he's got Steve who right now is dependent upon Danny for his very existence.

And he refuses to let either one of them down. He's stubborn like that.

He'll get them out of this, somehow. And as soon as Steve's healed enough and awake enough to listen, Danny will tell him to not ever change.

And, to never _ever_ get shot again.

"Well," Danny says, palming his partner's gun in one hand and his own in the other. "Time to take a page out of the McGarrett Handbook of Crazy."

And if later, nobody believes that Danny went all BAMF on the drug runners shooting two-fisted as he ran across a wide-open warehouse floor taking all ten of them down on his own, well…Danny will know.

And Steve, most likely, will hear the story and laugh his ass off.

Imitation _is_ the sincerest form of flattery, after all.


	18. Ways 35 and 36

**Way ****35  
>Give <strong>**advice ****in ****a ****loving ****way ****when ****she ****asks ****for ****it.**

"No? Whaddya mean, no? What's wrong with it?"

McGarrett raises one eyebrow.

"Speak."

"Woof."

"Very funny, Steven. Why should I not wear this today, it was a gift from my daughter, and I'm wearing it."

"Your funeral, _brah_."

"Do _not_ call me that. I am _not_ your _brah_. I fail to understand why you're giving me the hairy eyeball over this gift."

"Okay, that thing on the tie tack?"

"Yeah, it's a comet or something. So?"

"It's a fireball. A symbol that resembles the fireballs seen at the Manoa Chinese Cemetery."

Danny blinks, eyes blank.

"The Flying Gods, Danny. _Akua __lele_?"

"I have no idea what on Earth you're talking about."

"Okay. Manoa Chinese Cemetery. Manoa Valley."

"I've heard of it."

"But you haven't heard the legends."

Danny narrows his eyes. "Obviously not."

"Legend has it the cemetery's haunted. People have seen fires and fireballs at night, and they say it's the spirits of the dead."

"Fireballs. Spirits of the dead. Are you shitting me with this?"

"No. If you wear that tie tack, people are going to take it as an omen of impending death."

"For me?"

"Or them. Either way, no one who knows the legend – which is pretty well every Hawaiian there is – will even _look_ at you if you're wearing that tie tack. They might even hurt you trying to get away from you."

Danny looks down at the tie tack, scrunches up his brow and puckers his lips thoughtfully. "I promised Gracie I'd wear it."

Steve gets an _a-ha!_ look on his face. He reaches out, completely unknots Danny's tie, folds it neatly, fastens it together with the tie tack, and stuffs it into one of Danny's back pants pockets.

Danny looks nonplussed. "You want to tell me why you just unclothed and then fondled me, Steven?"

Raising his eyebrows, Steve replies, "I didn't do either. Now you're wearing the tie tack, so you're keeping your promise to Grace. And it's out of sight so nobody sees it, thus avoiding you getting the shit kicked out of you. Mission accomplished."

Danny rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "Is _everything_ a mission to you?"

Steve smirks, looks him up and down for a moment, and winks. "Well, I got you out of the tie, didn't I?"

* * *

><p><em>Author<em>_'__s __Note: __Yeah, __okay, __so__…__Way__36 __turned __into __crack. __Oy __vey._

**Way 36  
>Lead your family in their spiritual relationship with God.<strong>

Danny blinks. Everything is just _way_ too bright around him. It takes several minutes for anything to coalesce into recognizable shapes, but when they do, his jaw drops and in the same instant that he feels joy, he also feels anger that burns brighter than the sun inside his heart.

"That sonofabitch finally got me killed," he says, gawking at the older-looking man with white hair, a white beard, a long, white, flowing robe and…white wings.

"Mr. Williams, I can assure you that language such as this will _not_ in any way endear you to our Lord."

Danny looks down. He is, in actual fact, standing on _clouds_. On friggin' _clouds_!

"What the—" he starts, then catches the angel's eye. "Lemme guess: Saint Peter."

"Right in one, sir. Now, if you'll just step forward for your Life Review."

"There is _no __way_ I'm coming quietly."

Saint Peter raises an eyebrow. "That is of little surprise."

"Even from you I get grief," Danny scowls, running a hand through his hair. "Where is McGarrett? I'm going to _kill_ him!"

"That act will definitely not let you pass through these," Saint Peter says, gesturing at the…how is this even…large white structure to his right.

"Pearly _Gates_? Come _on_," Danny says, disbelief written in every feature.

"Mr. Williams, it's your time."

"The hell it is," Danny mutters, looking all around him for a means of escape. "I'm not leaving my little girl!"

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice, sir, there's no way your earthly body can survive that explosion."

Suddenly there is a loud cacophony of sounds that force Danny to cover his ears as Saint Peter's eyes dart around wildly. But it's when Saint Peter himself utters the words, "Holy _shit_!" with his eyes fixed behind Danny, that Danny is compelled to remove his hands from his ears and turn around. He doesn't dwell on the fact that Saint Peter just cursed.

There, barreling toward them like a JetSki through the Pacific, sending waves of clouds scattering in his wake, is a guy who's dressed neither in white, nor is wearing wings. Danny finds himself gawking again, only this time not because he's seeing Saint Peter, but because he's seeing—

"_Steve_?"

McGarrett skids to a halt right in front of Danny, sending cloud bits spraying in all directions.

"Sir, you cannot be here! You're not dead!"

"Neither is he," Steve says to the saint. "Not yet, and not if I have anything to say about it."

"You do _not_ have anything to say about it, Mr. McGarrett!"

"The hell I don't."

"But the Lord has called Mr. Williams home!"

Steve narrows his eyes, palms the gun in his right thigh holster and stares Saint Peter down. "Hawaii had him first, and Hawaii's keeping him."

Saint Peter raises an eyebrow. "You can't go against the will of the Lord!"

"I can," Steve says, "and I _am_. Danny's not done down there yet, and if you'll check that book of yours, you'll see I'm right."

Saint Peter dutifully flips through a couple of pages, gets a look of surprise on his face, and nods in deference to the truth. "I see that you are correct, Mr. McGarrett. But I don't understand how it is Mr. Williams arrived here. I have never seen a soul arrive at the Pearly Gates unless it was truly that soul's time. There are rules, however, that state once a mortal has approached the Gates, he cannot return to the Land of the Physical Body, and so Mr. Williams _must_ remain here."

"I'm taking him _back_," Steve says, voice dripping with the challenge of war. "And trading up in the process."

"Rules, Mr. McGarrett, exist for a reason!"

"Yeah, well," Steve shrugs, grabbing Danny by the hand and tugging him away, "I never really was very good with those. Besides, this _is_ allowed, just not recommended."

"Mr. McGarrett, there's no turning back if you do this!"

Steve looks at Danny, then back at the saint, and shrugs. "I know."

And with that, Steve is speeding away with a spluttering Danny in tow.

Later, when Danny wakes up in the hospital, the first thing he says to the two big, hazel eyes that fill his line of sight is, "Holy shit."

"Good to see you too, partner," Steve says with a smile.

"You rescued me from Heaven!"

"I did…what?"

"You pissed Saint Peter off!"

"Who?"

"Oh, my God, you are the only person I know who can execute a damn SEAL mission that includes a full-out assault on the Pearly Gates."

"Danno, did you hit your head harder than I thought?"

"Steven, _tell_ me that you did _not_ steal me away from Heaven and piss God and Saint Peter off so royally that I'll never make it back there again. _Tell_ me you didn't do that."

Steve sits down on the edge of the bed as Danny's eyelids drift closed. "Of course I didn't. You're not making any sense; you must have had a Near-Death Experience. Just close your eyes and rest, okay?"

And because Danny's eyes _do_ close all the way, he doesn't catch the smirk on Steve's face, nor the faint ripple of iridescent wings that flutter quietly behind Steve's body one last time, before folding against his back and disappearing for good.

"Nothing to worry about, D. Your soul's safe now." Steve leans forward until his lips are resting against the shell of Danny's ear and whispers, "I traded up."

Danny will, when he's coherent again, chalk those words up to a morphine-induced dream…


	19. Ways 37 and 38

**Way ****37  
>Prefer <strong>**her ****to ****others.**

"Governor, I don't understand why you're trying to force Lori on the team this way. I bought your story about her basically being a babysitter to us, but not once has she interfered with any of our investigations, any of my methods. Never once has she called me on the carpet for expenditures, for stretching the limits of the law. So what's the point of you adding her to the task force, and now, trying to force me into a partnership with her?"

Denning leaned back in his chair, studying the Commander's ramrod straight posture, his sincere eyes, the bruising and scarring left from the thing the team wouldn't talk about. Not even Officer Weston would disclose what had happened. He frowned.

"Lieutenant Commander McGarrett, Officer Weston's purpose for joining your team was two-fold. One being, as the two of you so crassly put it, as Five-0's babysitter. The other was purely for purposes of your team's image after the debacle involving my predecessor."

Steve allowed his brows to knit. "Our image?"

"Yes. Polls that Governor Jameson had her publicity team conduct prior to her death indicated a significant desire on the part of the general populace of Honolulu to see more of a female presence in the task force." He held up a hand to forestall the words he knew were about to emerge from McGarrett's mouth. "In addition to this, there was a need to connect your work with the tourists that frequent our state, and appeal to those who don't find Officer Kalakaua attractive in the general sense."

"_Attractive_?" Steve very nearly bellowed, bouncing to his feet in one smooth move. "Are you _kidding_ me? We're not a television show, we're _task __force_! Who cares if any of the people we protect or any of the criminals we arrest find any of us _attractive_?"

"_I_ care, and obviously Governor Jameson did, too. She was the one who sent the request to other agencies across the United States for a female operative which happens to match Officer Weston's description perfectly."

Steve leaned forward, hands resting flat on Denning's desk. His voice was ice-cold. "Governor _Jameson_ was in league with the head of Ya_ku_za," he spat. "She was involved in my father's murder, she was in _bed_ with _criminals_! Why the _hell_ would you put any stock in anything she did before Wo Fat killed her?"

Denning, too, rose to his feet, his placid demeanor only serving to infuriate Steve more. "Commander, whatever dealings Governor Jameson had outside of her appointment to the State of Hawaii, she was a damn fine governor. She ran this office well, and always had the best interests of the people of Hawaii at heart."

Steve jerked away from the desk, turned, ran a hand through his hair and sneered, "I suppose it was in the state's best interests for my mother and father to be murdered in cold blood."

"Those were activities not directly related to her duties to the people of this state," Denning countered calmly, folding his arms over his chest. "And before you ask, no, I have no dealings with any criminal elements, Yakuza or otherwise. I have never even met this Wo Fat, nor Hiro Noshimuri, nor any of the other names on the list Five-0 provided me with. But we're not talking about Jameson right now, we're talking about Officer Weston, and I'm _ordering_ you to take her on as your partner, rather than Detective Williams."

Steve faced the man, and forced himself to attention stance. "No, sir."

"You can't refuse, McGarrett. _I__'__m_ in charge of this task force now, and what I say, goes."

"Then I'm resigning effective immediately."

Denning's eyes narrowed. The Commander's face and eyes and body language betrayed nothing. He looked for all the world like he was simply standing at attention for his commanding officer to inspect him and damn if even Denning didn't find the picture a little imposing. He'd nearly forgotten what this man had done before taking on Jameson's new task force. That he'd probably killed more people during his time in the Navy than he would for the duration of his stint as leader of Five-0.

"Your resignation is not accepted."

Steve's eyes met his. "If I choose to go AWOL, _sir_, you'll never find me."

"You'd leave the others like that? You'd leave Detective Williams?"

Eyes moving back so they were staring straight ahead, Steve replied, "I've made my decision. If you insist that I partner with Officer Weston, you can consider that order my de facto resignation."

Denning shook his head, came around his desk, lifted his hands imploringly. "But _why_? We need a male/female lead team as the figurehead, not a man who was once accused of murder and a transplant who makes no bones about how much he detests everything about this state!"

Steve looked at him. "With all due respect, Governor, I never had a partner prior to this task force, and as far as I'm concerned, Detective Williams is the _only_ partner I will ever have. You can't order me to switch my loyalty to someone I barely know and have no _desire_ to know."

Leaning back and resting his butt on the desk behind him, Denning folded his arms over his chest once more. Long seconds of silence passed in which Steve remained at attention stance and Denning studied the complex man, wheels of his mind turning.

"All right, Lieutenant Commander, you win. I need you as the head of this task force; Hawaiians have come to respect and admire you, and they _expect_ to see you out there leading the charge to protect them."

"They _expect_ Detective Williams to be by my side as well, Governor. I don't care what your polls say, or who has a hard-on for blond over Hawaiian females, or the fact that you seem to think we need babysitting but that your _baby_sitter hasn't done anything to suggest she's actually fulfilling that role. Officer Weston is welcome to remain on the team should that be her wish, but you will _not_ be pairing her up with any members of _my_ team."

"She's _part_ of your team."

Steve looked straight ahead when he replied, "No, sir. She isn't."

"Because you didn't choose her?" Denning asked, eyebrow raised.

"Because she doesn't _fit_, sir," McGarrett replied. "She offers no expertise that we require to operate efficiently. Not once has any of this profiling experience she supposedly has contributed to furthering any of our cases. She corners my team members when they're supposed to be working, asking personal questions that are inappropriate. While she is an adequate addition from a strictly procedural standpoint, there is nothing to be gained from her remaining with Five-0."

"Funny," Denning said, cocking his head. "Those were almost exactly her words, Commander."

Steve's eyes snapped to Denning's in surprise.

A door opened – the very same door Wo Fat had entered through that fateful night – and in walked Lori Weston, a satisfied smile on her face. "I knew you liked Danny, Steve, but damn, to quit at the mere mention of me replacing him as your partner?"

"What's going on here?" Steve asked, jaw set, feeling like once again, he was being betrayed.

"Relax," she said smoothly.

"Lieutenant Commander McGarrett, meet Special Agent Lori Wakeman of the Federal Bureau of Investigation."

Steve frowned.

"Special Agent Wakeman was sent by the FBI to investigate things that occurred over the year that Five-0 existed prior to Jameson's assassination, up to and including your and your team's involvement in it. It became a matter for the federal government as soon as a governor was murdered, and Wakeman's job was to find out for certain whether you or any of your team members had ties to organized crime, including the Yakuza, and how far your loyalties to one another went."

"I think we just answered that one," Lori said with a grin. "Sorry to have deceived you, Steve, but I had a job to do."

Steve was very much hoping in that moment that looks could, in actual fact, kill.

"Well, I'm off on the next flight out of Honolulu Airport," Lori said, stepping forward and holding her hand out to McGarrett. "It was a pleasure getting to know you and your team, and I wish you continued success in the work you do here in Hawaii."

Not a muscle anywhere on Steve's body moved.

Lori looked at Denning, then shrugged, withdrew her hand and moved back to the door. She stopped, turned back and looked Steve up and down. "I must say, though, I _am_ disappointed that you prefer Danny over me."

Steve looked murderous. Lori took that as her cue to exit.

"As you were, Lieutenant Commander," Denning said as Lori closed the door behind her.

"Governor, I mean this with every bit of respect due to a man of your position," Steve said, eyes boring into Denning's. "If you _ever_ pull a stunt like that again, if you _ever_ screw with the dynamic of _my __team_ again, or try to oust _any_ of them in favor of someone new, there _will_ be hell to pay."

"Are you threatening me? Commander?"

"Absolutely not, _Governor_. I'm just stating fact. I've had it with outside influences trying to shove square pegs into round holes, trying to fix something that was never broken to begin with, and then coming to find out it was nothing but a ploy. All this crap about demographics or polls or whatever, and then you tell me the FBI was _spying_ on us? How do you think the rest of my team is going to feel about this?"

"I had no _choice_ but to cooperate with the FBI, McGarrett! You don't exactly say _no_ to those people, and the murder of a state official is hardly going to go unnoticed!"

"Next time, just _tell_ me," Steve seethed through clenched teeth. "As the leader of your task force, I deserve at least _that_ much. I wouldn't have told the rest of them if it was meant to be kept secret."

"But then you would've been guarded, and Special Agent Wakeman couldn't have gotten the information she was ordered to get."

"I only have one question: why the song and dance about polls and adding another female to the team, and trying to see how far you could push me where Lori was concerned?"

"That's actually two questions, Commander, but fine. I was testing where your loyalties lie. If I can count on you in the future or if you'll still be fighting me."

"My loyalties lie with _my __partner_, and _my_ _team_, Governor. No one will replace them, and God help anyone who tries to."

Steve's cell phone started blaring out the song 'I Like Jersey Best.' He grabbed the phone out of his pocket as Denning smirked.

"Hey, Danny, what's up?" Denning moved around to sit in his chair as Steve listened to his partner for nearly a full minute. He was surprised when Steve barked out a laugh and said, "I can do that," before hanging up.

Raising an eyebrow in question, Denning scooted his chair all the way forward and rested his elbows on the desk, looking at Steve expectantly.

"It would appear that Special Agent Wakeman had the common decency to stop by and explain to my team who she was, why she was shoved into our lives for no good reason, and that she was leaving. My partner, sir, the _only_ partner I will _ever_ have, has asked me to convey a message to you."

"Oh, really?" Denning asked dryly as McGarrett strolled to the exit and opened the door.

"Yes," Steve said. "Sorry, but you know, he's from New Jersey." With that, Steve turned, gave the governor a one-fingered salute, and was gone before Denning could even register what had happened.

When it finally _did_ register, Denning chuckled and hung his head in his hands. "Well," he said to the emptiness of the room, "I guess I deserved that one."

* * *

><p><strong>Way 38<br>Don't expect her to enjoy God's best in life.**

Steve just couldn't understand why Danny hated Hawaii so much, but he chalked it up to the fact that Danny was simply a negative person. As much as it pained him to think it, he couldn't blame the guy, and was surprised _he_ wasn't even more negative than Danny.

Both had seen a lot of shit go down in their lifetimes. Danny, mostly in New Jersey with all those homicide cases. Steve, mostly all over the world during his time in the Navy.

Not to mention the personal crap they'd both had to deal with.

So he didn't really expect Danny to ever like Hawaii, because he'd been forced there against his will. And Steve could identify with that, he really could.

That was why, when the day came that Grace graduated from high school, and was scheduled to fly out two months later to San Francisco to get settled before attending Cal State San Fran for their excellent Biochemistry program, Steve was just waiting for Danny to give his notice of resignation so he could follow her.

After all, there wasn't a world in which Danny wouldn't follow Grace, and Steve assumed that meant even _after_ she was grown. He tried to steel himself for the moment it happened, but couldn't force the queasy feeling in his stomach away each time he thought about it. So he waited.

But Danny's announcement never came, and when the team held a barbecue at Steve's house the following weekend to celebrate Grace and her achievements, and the beginning of her exciting move to the next phase in her life, no one was more surprised than Steve McGarrett when Danny arrived wearing beige cargo shorts, a white tee shirt and…of all things…_slippers_.

Steve knew he spent the majority of the barbecue – which Rachel and Stan and their son, Jeremy, along with a dozen of Grace's good friends from school, were attending as well – staring openly at his partner.

He also spent the whole time hoping nobody else had noticed.

Eventually when the party waned and the Edwards family said their good-byes, and Grace and her friends decided to head for one or the other of their homes to continue their partying, and Chin went home to Malia and their two children, and Kono left for another in a long line of dates, Steve found himself alone in the kitchen cleaning up. He'd no idea where Danny had gotten to, and was glad, because dressed the way he was, well, it was…distracting.

Almost like Danny was actually trying to fit in.

Steve heard scuffing footsteps behind him and turned. There he was, Danny in all his island glory, still wearing the shorts, the tee shirt and the slippers. He had a grin on his face, and shrugged, and held out his hands.

"Not going anywhere, Steve," he said.

And fuck, how had Danny known that's what Steve had been thinking all along?

Didn't matter, because he was _staying_.

He was staying.

Steve turned quickly back to the sink to hide the way-too-pleased smile he knew was on his face. "Good to hear," he managed to say evenly as he felt the weight of a thousand pounds of pressure lift off his shoulders.

"You," Danny said, sidling up next to him and picking up a dish towel, "are a goofball."

"Yeah?" Steve asked, scrubbing at some unseen spec on a casserole dish.

Danny elbowed him in the ribs. "Yeah."

This time, Steve didn't care that Danny saw his smile.


	20. Ways 39 and 40

**Way ****39  
>Pray <strong>**for ****her ****to ****enjoy ****God's ****best ****in ****life.**

Steve watched as Grace ran into her father's arms. At thirteen years of age, unlike the kids he'd known when _he__'__d_ been that young, Grace Williams never shied away from showing her father affection in public, in front of Steve, in front of Five-0, in _any _circumstance.

He unfolded himself from the Camaro's narrow confines and stepped out into the bright Hawaiian sun. Grace kept her arms wrapped around her father, kissed him on his stubbled cheek and whispered into his ear. Danny's face lit up with an overjoyed smile, and in that moment, Steve had a thought.

Danny groused about everything, still, to this day. Still hated how much sun shone, or how much rain fell. Hated how there were really no definable seasons in spite of calling them Winter or Summer or Spring or Fall. How Christmas lights on palm trees was wrong on so many levels, and taking people seriously when they were wearing barely-hidden bikinis under their work attire was an impossible task.

But here in this moment, Steve thought maybe knew why his partner didn't think anything here in the islands was good or perfect. Why he didn't look upon the land and water as Paradise.

Danny's Paradise, was Grace.

In this case, she'd been gone all summer to England to spend time with her maternal grandparents, and had just arrived home this morning. Stan and Rachel and their son had picked her up from the airport. Danny and Steve had been in the middle of finishing paperwork on a case, to get it filed in time to make the morning court docket.

So this was the first time Danny had seen her in two-and-a-half months.

His arm was still around her as the two walked toward Steve and the new Camaro they'd just picked up yesterday.

"Hi, Uncle Steve," Grace smiled up at him, looking way too mature for her barely-teen years.

Steve grinned. "Hi, Gracie," he said, and pulled her into a quick hug.

"Isn't she the best?" Danny beamed.

"Yeah, Danno," Steve replied, releasing his adopted niece and noting how Danny's smile never faded; how he never took his eyes off his daughter.

Now Steve got it.

Nothing compared to the love he had for his child, in Danny's world. And as Grace wrapped her arms around her father again and Danny's eyes met Steve's over her shoulder, Steve figured maybe Danny was right. Maybe Hawaii didn't hold a candle to Grace Williams after all.

He couldn't do anything but smile.

* * *

><p><strong>Way 40<br>Take time to notice what she has done for you and the family.**

He was the rock.

Kono was part brains, part deadly beauty, and Chin was a mastermind of the technical, sharp and loyal, and the calm in every Five-0 storm.

But Danny was the rock.

In good times, he was the one who made them laugh with his wild, embellished tales and mockery of all things. He was the voice of reason in the midst of insanity. He was the one who would remind them of the right thing to do according to procedure and common sense, and then follow them – mostly Steve – into sometimes hellish situations just because it was his job to keep them safe, and to have his partner's back.

In bad times, he was the one Kono would go to when she needed a shoulder to cry on and caring arms to hold her. He was the one Chin would talk to when some ugly family thing reared its head that angered or hurt him, knowing Danny would listen, give advice, and remind Chin he was there for him no matter what. He was the one who mother-henned and fussed over them all eating properly, getting enough rest and nursing them back to health when needed.

Like a boulder holding the shoreline back from eroding into the sea, Danny wasn't always acknowledged for what his place on this team had become. But when he was gone, his absence wasn't only keenly felt; it was downright destructive to what had existed perfectly when he was there.

It wasn't that Steve didn't appreciate him. It wasn't that way for any of them. They all appreciated each other, all cared deeply for each other. For Steve, it was simply that underneath it all, he'd never really realized just how dependent he'd become on Danny Williams from New Jersey. He'd never seen that he was the sand and dirt that was being held back by the boulder. And now that Danny wasn't here, Steve was sliding away. Further and further into the ocean, scattering, being tossed and torn apart.

Nothing was the same. And while logically he'd known that would be the case, the fact was he hadn't truly been prepared for it to sucker punch him in the gut like it now was. Steve sat alone out on the beach with two beers, knowing he'd wind up pouring the second into the sand beneath the chair where Danny usually sat.

He missed the bitching about everything under the sun.

He missed the constant movement, where even if Danny wasn't talking with his hands, he was doing something like scratching his forehead, or tapping his finger on his leg.

He missed the yelling at him for going into something half-cocked because he could feel the undercurrent of love behind the bluster that tried to cover for what a great big bleeding heart Danny had.

Christmas just wasn't going to be Christmas this year, there was no two ways about it. Steve hadn't even put up a tree. Or a single light. He hadn't known a happy Christmas until his first there in Danny's little apartment with Kamekona and Kono, Chin and Grace. And every one since then had been memorable, full of smiles and revelry.

Chin had tried to get him to come over to his and Malia's party, but Steve had politely declined, saying he already had plans. Chin had looked at him dubiously, but not pushed it.

Kono had offered for Steve to be her 'date' for a surfing party she was going to with a few of her cousins and assorted friends, but Steve had also told her he had plans.

Well, here were his plans, sitting alone on his beach staring out at the ocean as the moon appeared from behind the clouds. Wondering at how one person could get so far under his skin without him being aware of the assault. Wondering if he would stop turning to the passenger seat in the Camaro to make some smart remark, only to find it empty.

Maybe he just needed to not drive the Camaro at all.

Steve sighed as he finished his beer. He reached over, picked up the one meant for Danny and turned it upside-down, letting the liquid hiss and bubble into the fine sand below.

As much as he'd gotten used to it over his years in the Navy, Steve now realized he really hated being alone. Even when he was alone at home or surfing, he hadn't ever truly felt alone, because Danny was never more than a phone call away, and was just as likely to show up on his own thinking Steve needed to be saved from his own head, than not.

Steve knew now Danny's assessment of things had been right. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and noted it was eleven fifty-eight at night on Christmas Eve. Danny had been gone for three days now. As much as he'd loved putting the happy grin on Danny's face when he'd approved the vacation time, Steve now selfishly wished he'd said no.

Then the phone rang, causing Steve to jump. He looked at the face of it and frowned, then opened the line.

"Hello?"

"_I hear you, uh…might miss me a little bit."_

Steve tried to snort. He tried to huff. He even tried to tsk. But what came out was, "Yeah."

Damn. Now Danny knew.

"_That's why I made sure you wouldn't be alone on Christmas Day."_

Steve looked all around the beach. "Danny, Christmas Day is exactly one minute away, and I'm definitely alone."

The response came both from his right ear, where he held the phone, and his left.

In stereo.

"No. You're not."

Steve thumbed the phone off and rose from his chair, a look of disbelief on his face. Six Christmases so far with Danny here. There was always part of it spent with the team and Grace, gathered together at one or the other's home while they lavished the little girl with gifts and cookies, Danny with his ridiculous portrayal of Santa. After, when Grace would go back to the Edwards house, Steve and Danny would usually wind up on the beach behind Steve's house getting suitably drunk and having the best time doing it.

This was the first Christmas Steve would be alone since returning to Hawaii, with Danny finally deciding to go home for a family holiday. His absence alone had scattered the entire team, making Steve even more keenly aware of what Danny meant to them all…the glue holding them together, more often than not.

But now the boulder was back as if by magic, and suddenly Steve's world was right again. He was no longer slipping out to sea. He felt stupid. He felt like a child. He felt awkward, uncomfortable, embarrassed, strange. He felt a hundred different things that made his neck grow hot and he just _knew_ he had an idiotic look on his face.

But apparently Danny didn't think so, or it didn't matter to him if he did. Because before Steve could even ask what he was doing there instead of being five thousand miles away, Danny walked up to him, wrapped his arms around him, said "Merry Christmas, Steve," and just held on.

"It is now," Steve heard himself say, and smiled as he held on right back.


	21. Ways 41 and 42

**Way ****41  
>Brag <strong>**about ****her ****to ****other ****people ****behind ****her ****back.**

"Steven."

"Mm?"

"May I ask, on what occasion have you been required to call on one Dr. Asano recently? And I'm taking the stiffening of your spine as confirmation that you have, indeed, done so."

"I don't know _what_ you're talking about, Danny. I have no reason to see her now that the case is over. _You__'__re_ the one who was tripping over your tongue in front of her, not me."

"Do not try to deflect this conversation into the realm of me being tongue-tied in the face of a beautiful woman, McGarrett. I will have you know that has been happening to men since the beginning of time and is not at all unusual to us mere mortals, though I'm sure you wouldn't know anything about that. This is about when, and why, you have seen Gabby recently."

"Oh, it's _Gabby_ now, is it?"

"Yes, it's—answer the question!"

"What makes you think I've seen her at all since the _heiau_? And why is your face turning red…are you…_blushing_?"

"I do not blush, I get heated."

"You think?"

"Shut up. Answer the question."

"Can't do both, Danny."

"Then just…god_damn_, what did you tell her?"

"Tell who?"

"I will shoot you in the _face_. What did you tell Gabby about me?"

"Okay, all right, _fine_. I went back to pick up the coin you left with her, you know, because you're such a _stickler_ about _evidence_, Danny, do _not_ roll your eyes at me. And she asked me about you."

"If you don't tell me—"

"I'm trying to, why do all of our conversations go on for over a year before they get to the point? That doesn't require an answer, stop glaring at me. She asked if you're a good man."

"She asked…are you serious?"

"No, I get off on discussing your love life with you."

"Why would this not in any way surprise me?"

"_Yes_, I'm serious. That's what she asked me."

"And?"

"And what?"

"And what did you _tell __her_, Steve? Oh, God. Why are you smirking?"

"I didn't tell her anything, D. I just said you've got it where it counts."

"Oh, my _God_, I hate you. I hate you so much. That explains it. You are dead, McGarrett, _dead_."

"Explains what? What are you killing me for _this_ time?"

"It explains why, O He Of The Idiot Remarks To Women My Partner Is Interested In, one Dr. Gabrielle Asano made quicker work of divesting me of my clothing last night than I did of the _malasada_ you brought me yesterday morning!"

"Ohhh, a wildcat, huh? Always gotta watch out for the quiet ones."

"No, she's not…Christ, she's _not_ normally a wildcat, she listened to _you_ and misinterpreted what you _said_ to her as meaning I'm that kind of…that I…she thought you meant…I'm seriously going to shoot you. Now. As in, you should run. Hide behind bulletproof glass. Like…_right_ now."

"Oh, come on, Danny, you look more relaxed than I've seen you the entire time I've known you. I'm going to guess it's because you got lucky, and – _and_ – I'm going to pat myself on the back for the role I played in that."

"Okay, no. No. Just for the record, you, my crazy-ass ninja SEAL partner, did not play _any_ role in me getting laid. What, wait, why are you trying so hard not to laugh? Oh. Oh, shit. Kono. Or Chin. One of them's standing right behind me. Am I right?"

"Uh…actually, _both_ of them are, Danny."

"So, Boss, Chin and I were just wondering…anything you two want to, uh…get off? Your chests, that is."

…

…

"Kono."

"Yeah, cuz?"

"Why did Steve just run out of here like his ass was on fire?"

"Probably for the same reason Danny ran after him with his gun in his hand."

"Think we ought to intervene?"

"Nah. We'll just meet them later at the hospital."

"Good plan."

* * *

><p><strong>Way 42<br>Share your thoughts and feelings with her.**

Funny thing about having anyone stay with you, even if it's only for one night, is you find out so much about them. Steve, for example, finds out his partner is more insane than he could _ever_ be because seriously, who doesn't like the sound of ocean waves? Hours upon hours of music and relaxation CDs have been created to the backdrop of that sound. Machines specifically designed to mimic it, shrinks prescribing it over pills to help their patients sleep.

Who doesn't like it? The same guy who doesn't like the beach.

Figures. Of all things, he never figured on _that_ being a bone of contention between them.

And then there's Danny's morning ritual. In spite of the fact that Steve rather unceremoniously opened the shower door, reached in and shut the water off while Danny's hair was plastered to his head by conditioner, Danny has systematically refused to take shorter showers.

And no matter what Daniel says, Steven is _not_ anal retentive, thank you very much.

He's not.

He's just…well…he's been this way since he was eighteen and entered the world of the United States Navy. He can't help having it drilled into him – sometimes literally – that these are the rules you live by.

You conserve, taking up as little of the world as possible with your existence. Hence the three-minute showers. You only put into your body what you want to get out of it. Hence a healthy non-car-filled diet. You must always be ready for anything to happen. Hence a strict exercise regimen and plenty of weaponry easily accessible no matter where you are at any given time.

These are the rules Steve has lived by, and some of them have saved his bacon on numerous occasions.

But then there's this, right here. This, where Danny just walks into Steve's bedroom like sleeping on the guy's couch has given him one hundred percent freedom to invade every last nook and cranny of Steve's house, top to bottom. It's true that Steve had left the bedroom door open, but in Steve's world, you didn't just walk into someone's private domain without knocking or asking first. Hell, he could've been in the middle of a decent session with his right hand, and how awkward would _that_ have been?

See, the thing is, Steve's thinking getting caught handling one of his other daily morning routines would've been a _lot_ less awkward than the position he finds himself in right now. He's standing there in his briefs and slippers, and there's the puff and hiss coming from the object in his hand, and Danny's gaping at him as though he'd walked in him ravishing a blow-up doll.

"What?" Steve finally asks when Danny's dropped jaw and wide eyes become too much. He resumes what he was doing.

"You," Danny says, and it seems to be all he can figure out to say because then he falls silent.

Steve finishes what he's doing, sets the object down, careful not to touch it and burn himself, and inspects his handiwork. "What?" he asks again as he folds the cotton precisely, turns and tucks it into the bottom of the pile in his top dresser drawer.

"I'm just, uh…" Danny says, hooking his thumb toward the bedroom door.

"Danny, what is your _problem_?" Because Steve's had enough of this. He doesn't understand the weirdness going on here. At all.

Danny seems to collect himself with great effort, swallowing a few times, running a hand over his already slicked-back hair, smoothing a hand down the front of his shirt, flexing his fingers into and out of fists. At last, the Fount of Jersey Wisdom speaks.

"I do not understand how a man who wears _cargo __pants_ and four-to-a-pack Wal-Mart tee shirts and off-the-rack polos," and here Danny takes a moment to gesture wildly at McGarrett and what surrounds him, "actually stands there and—and—"

Steve _really_ doesn't understand the problem. "Did you not have your coffee yet?"

"Coffee? You're standing there _ironing __your __goddamn __tighty-whiteys_ and you're asking me about _coffee_?"

Steve just stares at him like Danny's lost his mind which, in all fairness, is a distinct possibility. Danny stares back, then rolls his eyes heavenward, shakes his head, throws his hands up in the air in utter despair and leaves the room.

Steve takes the last pair of clean underwear out of the laundry basket, blinks at the now-empty space on the other side of the ironing board with confusion etched into his brow, and asks the empty room, "_What_?"


	22. Ways 43 and 44

**Way ****43  
>Tell <strong>**her ****about ****your ****job, ****if ****she's ****interested.**

"_I__'__m_ going to tell _you_ a bedtime story this time."

"Does this mean you're growing up already, you're telling _me_ bedtime stories now?"

"No, Danno, I'm only ten!"

"Okay, Monkey, you just get tucked in there, yep, and go ahead and tell me your bedtime story."

"Once upon a time there was Land of Evil. It was very hot like a desert and full of bad men who wanted nothing more than to kill the good knights and the king who led them into battle."

"Grace, what story is this?"

"Shh, you'll see. So the king and his knights, they knew they were in danger traveling to this strange and Evil Land, but they had a mission to save all the innocent peasants of the Land and it meant they had to do whatever it took to rid the Land of the Evil Men who lorded over it."

"Lorded over it, huh?"

"Yes. So the king and his knights invaded the Land by night, very quietly, and found the place where the Land's own king and queen were being held before the Evil Men imprisoned them. It was a tall, tall tower in a castle surrounded by Evil Soldiers with weapons. They tried to keep the king and his knights from entering the palace, but these men were too good and snuck inside the castle anyway."

"Wow."

"I know, isn't it exciting? So anyway, the king and his knights managed to make their way up to the tall, tall tower where the king and queen of the Desert Land were being held prisoner. They freed them, but that was when the true fight for their lives began. One of the king's knights was injured, and so the king ordered the rest of his knights to hurry and put the Desert Land's king and queen into a magical metal pony and drive them as fast and as far away from the castle as possible. Oh, and to make sure they captured as many Evil Soldiers as they could along the way."

"Metal pony."

"Sh! One of the king's knights said to him, "Sire, we cannot leave you here alone with the fallen knight, for surely you shall die!" But the king said, "You have your orders," and the knight had no choice but to follow them as he had been trained to do."

"So what happened to the king, Monkey?"

"Well, the king was left alone with the injured knight, who had to be carried out of the castle, past so many Evil Soldiers and Castle Guards, and there were times when the king didn't think he would _ever_ get them out of the castle alive. But you know what, Danno?"

"What?"

"He _did_! He carried the knight all the way to a basement dungeon, where he freed all of the prisoners, and together they all escaped the Evil Castle. But just as the king was about to take his injured knight out of the magic trap door to freedom, the Evil King of the Desert Land appeared in a puff of smoke, and told him he was going to get rid of him and his pesky knight once and for all."

"What did the king _do_, Grace?"

"Well, the king is a very clever and well-trained king, you see, so when the Evil King told him that, the Good King didn't pay any attention to it because after all, he had four magic bombs in his pockets and other magical spells and potions that created a great deal of smoke so that he could make sure the Evil King could never hurt the people of the Desert Land again, and get his own knight to safety."

"Four magic bombs, huh?"

"Yes, and later, after the Evil Land had turned back into the good Desert Land, and the injured knight was recovering in the Good King's Palace Hospital, the injured knight asked his king, "Why did you take me out of there? We could both have been killed." And do you know what the king said?"

"No. What did he say?"

"He said, "We are the special and highly-trained SEALs of the Royal Navy, my good knight, and we leave no man behind."

…

"Danno? What is it?"

"Monkey, where did you hear that story?"

"Uncle Steve told it to me last weekend when we were here, you remember, he wanted to be the one to tell me a bedtime story. I'm going to miss seeing him and playing on his beach when you move out."

"I know, Grace. I know. You get some sleep now. Good night. Danno loves you."

"Love you, too."

"So."

"So."

"Seal Team Six, huh?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, you know. Raids on compounds in Iraq, freeing leaders of an ousted political party from an impossible situation. Bedtime stories that aren't classified."

"Maybe."

"Like one of those movies that says it's based on actual events."

"Something like that."

"Huh."

"What?"

"Well, I just never thought that me having to crash on your couch, meaning Grace staying here when I have her, would be the thing that'd let me in on some of the stuff you used to do, that's all."

"From the mouths of babes, Danny. S'nothing but a fairy tale."

"Yeah. Nothing but a fairy tale. But, uh, Steve?"

"Mm?"

"Next time, leave out the part with the 'four little bombs.' My daughter does not need to know about your penchant for grenades."

"Will do, Danny. Will do."

* * *

><p><em>Author<em>_'__s __Note: __Way__44 __is __complete __and __total, __unapologetic __crack._

**Way 44  
>Take time to see how she spends her day, at work or at home.<strong>

Danny was a suspicious fellow by nature. He couldn't help it. He supposed it came from years of living in a very busy, very noisy, very _full_ household were nearly every minute of the day you had to worry about what pranks your siblings were going to try and pull on you, or the various methods by which they were going to get you in trouble with your folks.

And after his childhood, during all the years he'd spent as a police officer, he'd learned to be suspicious of people in general. Just because someone seemed nice, gentle and unassuming didn't mean they were. Just because someone seemed sane, rational and completely in control of their sense of self-preservation didn't mean they were.

After all, he now had a partner that proved all _that_ beyond a shadow of a doubt.

But there were still times when Danny really wondered about McGarrett and what his story was, because for all that Danny knew about his childhood, his mother's death, his father's murder and the fact that he was in the Navy, the truth of the matter was that sometimes Steve did or said things that really made no logical sense at all.

Other than constantly throwing himself into harm's way, that was.

For example, falling off a cliff after getting bonked on the head by a huge rock, and coming out of it with nothing more than a scrape on his forehead and a busted arm, then going ahead and continuing to work the case like it had been nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

Never mind that Danny's _own_ heart had stopped beating the moment his partner lost his grip on that rock face.

Or the time when Steve managed to have one hundred percent perfect aim while swinging down from the second floor of a warehouse on a friggin' chain. Like _anyone_ could mow down all those perps with such accuracy while doing a mean rendition of Tarzan, Lord of the Hawaiian Jungle.

Somehow, though, Steve had done it.

There were other things, much more obvious things that Danny didn't know _how_ Chin and Kono didn't question. Things like, Hesse stabbing Steve in prison, and other than the short 'rest' at Max's, proceeding to chase all over the island after the truth and his freedom like nothing had happened to him at all.

Danny didn't really think Max was a miracle worker, and yet Steve had been acted like he wasn't hurt at all.

Little things. Having stayed at Steve's place for a few weeks, he noticed that his partner seemed even more inhuman in his off-hours than he did on the job. The guy barely slept, and truthfully, Danny didn't actually know if he was truly sleeping when he disappeared into his bedroom after midnight, only to emerge at the ass-crack of dawn to go for an hour-long swim.

The speed with which Steve raced through his morning routine. How could anyone look that GQ in fifteen minutes? Well, the three-minute showers might've had something to do with that, but still.

But the penultimate moment that started the loudest alarm bell of all ringing inside Danny's skull, was when McGarrett got shot _in __the __head_ by a suspect in the jungle. Danny, of course, was the first to find him. The shooter was dead mere feet away, and Steve was…well, he was _leaking_.

Danny thought at first Steve was dead, and he'd just dropped to his knees next to his partner's body to begin his silent grieving when Steve popped up, blinked, wiped away what appeared to be blood and some other yellowish type of fluid…probably some weird jungle plant juice that bled all over where Steve was bleeding, Danny reasoned…and then continued running down leads with Danny.

That was the last straw.

Danny, suspicious guy that he was, decided it was time to find out what really made McGarrett tick. Thing of it was, he hadn't actually _expected_ to find out. Well, not like this.

He'd come over at two o'clock in the morning, fully prepared with a completely convincing tale about how he couldn't sleep because of Steve's absolute refusal to seek medical attention for getting _shot __in __the __head_, and his totally understandable concern for his partner's well-being. And the end of that tale was to be that _this_ was why Danny had entered his partner's house at two a.m. using his copy of the key, why he'd disabled the alarm, and why'd he'd crept up the stairs to Steve's bedroom.

Why he'd opened the door to that room.

Why he'd tiptoed into that room.

Why he'd found, rather than his flesh-colored and tattoo-painted partner, a sleek silver human-shaped thing sitting upright against the headboard of Steve's bed.

Danny felt absolutely justified in pulling his weapon.

Then the thing turned its head to look at him, and Danny saw eyes he recognized. He also saw a deep gash, if it could be called that, in the metal that made up the side of the silver thing's head. And underneath was a mass of wires and blinking lights and what looked to Danny like some sort of computer chips.

The silver thing blinked. Then it smiled. It actually _smiled_.

Danny wondered if he was being punked. Then he wondered if he was about to be abducted by aliens, or possibly assassinated by the Navy for uncovering some Top Secret experiment of theirs.

"It's me, Danny," a voice that came out of the silver thing's mouth said. Shit of it was, Danny _knew_ that voice.

He blinked. And then he blinked again. Then Danny holstered his weapon, looked pointedly at the large silver toolbox which lay open on the bed next to his partner, and cleared his throat. "Need a hand?" he asked.

The silver thing's…_Steve__'__s_…smile widened. "Thought you'd never ask."

Because Danny, while a suspicious fellow by nature, was also loyal to a fault, as he had proven by staying married to his ex-wife for _way_ longer than he should've. And so while he wasn't actually convinced he wasn't being punked, or about to be abducted, or seconds away from being assassinated, he decided having his partner's back meant having his partner's back. Even if it was a back made of metal rather than flesh, blood and bone.

Danny sat down on the edge of the bed, looked at the thing that reminded him a little of that machine from _Terminator_, and asked a question he felt was very important to ask. "You going to have to kill me now?"

"Naw," came the Steve-voice in a drawl from the perfect metal jaw lined with pearly white, human-looking teeth. "But I would appreciate it if you kept this just between us."

Danny cocked his head. "Nobody else knows?"

"Joe does. Nobody else, though," the machine said with what Danny assumed was meant to be a shrug.

"What _are_ you?" Danny breathed, unable to keep himself from staring at his partner head-to-toe.

"New and improved. My body actually died on a SEAL mission. They managed to transfer me into this HATS."

Danny raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"Human Androidian Skeletal Titanium."

"You…died?"

"Not my consciousness. Just my body. Joe pulled me out, got me to the base, and they did…this. I'm the first one. And the last."

"Why?"

"Ethics," the metal Steve sort-of-shrugged again. "And I don't always work that well."

"Are you kidding me? You work _too_ well! That's why I got suspicious to begin with!"

"Not in all things," Steve replied quietly, head drooping.

That's when Danny's attention was drawn back to his partner's…well…his sort-of…partner's, he guessed…head injury. "What do you need to do to fix that? And how did a bullet break through titanium, anyway?"

"My skeletal structure's breaking down."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning I won't be able to be the task force leader forever."

Danny manfully resisted the urge to gulp dramatically. "You…you mean, you're going to have to…_leave_ us?"

If it was possible for a skeleton-like thing to smirk, Steve was doing it. "Yeah. In about forty years or so."

Danny blew out the breath he'd been holding. "So what can I do to help?"

"Believe it or not, what you're doing right now."

"Sitting on your bed?"

"No. Talking."

"Talking."

"The more input I receive, external stimuli, the faster my neural nets rebuild themselves."

"Neural nets. Me talking. _This_ is why you made me your partner? Because I'm stimulating?"

Silver Steve grinned. "Partly."

And Danny shrugged because what the hell, right? What was the saying? If you can't beat 'em, join 'em?

"Oh, I can speed up your recovery, babe," he said smugly, scooting around so he was sitting next to Steve with his back and head against the wall. "I can talk your ear off…figure of speech in your case, of course…like nobody's business."

"And that," the silver skeletal _Terminator_-like Steve said, "is why I love you, Danno."

Danny knew his grin was goofy but, you know, there's something to be said for having the affections of the world's only fully functional Navy SEAL Five-0 leader android, who also happens to be your partner. Danny turned and looked at the guy…thing…whatever…and asked, "Where's your skin?"

"At the cleaner's," Steve replied dryly.

Danny looked at him for a moment and then burst out laughing. You couldn't _make_ this shit up. And somehow, as the last of his own personal sanity leaked out of his pores, Danny had the presence of mind to say to his partner, "You know, this would _never_ happen in Jersey."

For an android, Steve belly-laughed really well.


	23. Ways 45 and 46

**Way ****45  
>Take <strong>**care ****of ****the ****kids ****before ****dinner.**

Danny flopped unceremoniously onto the couch, hard enough that it skittered backwards a few inches.

Steve soon followed.

Danny breathed out an exasperated sigh of relief.

Steve grunted.

"I swear to _God_, Grace was never this bad no matter how sick she got."

Steve grunted.

"It's like they've both reverted to being toddlers!"

Steve groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes.

"What, nothing to say about all this, McGarrett?"

Steve turned to look at him. "I'm hungry."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Well, of _course_ you're hungry. Thanks to the Wonder Twins, and why they never had chicken pox as kids in families as large as theirs are, I will _never_ know, we've been running since sunup and it's already nine o'clock at night!"

Steve grunted.

"Caveman," Danny groused, reaching out and grabbing his cell phone off the coffee table.

"I hate sick people."

"Now you know how I feel having to work with _you_ every day."

Steve shot Danny a look.

Danny stuck his tongue out as the pizza place answered the phone. He quickly ordered a large cheese pizza and ended the call.

"Did you just stick your tongue out at me?"

"No."

"Child."

"Neanderthal."

"You couldn't even get pepperoni on it?"

"No. Mozz. Sauce. Dough. That's pizza. Even on _this_ tiny island."

"You are so boring."

"Oh, yeah? Well, at least I don't get off on blowing things up!"

"That's not what gets me off, Danno."

"Do _not_ use my daughter's name for me in the same sentence as talk about getting off."

Steve grunted.

Danny sighed. "I hate sick people."

Steve turned and looked at him.

"What?"

"Did Grace ever have chicken pox?"

"Yes."

"Did you?"

Danny turned scarlet.

"Oh, don't even…"

"What?"

Steve looked pointedly down at where Danny's blunt fingernails were scratching at his own hairy forearm.

Danny looked down there, too. "Oh, shit."

"I am _not_ taking care of you, too."

"Well, nobody asked you too!"

"Good."

"Good."

"Fine."

"F—uh…Steven?"

"_What_?"

Danny looked pointedly at where Steve's blunt fingernails were scratching at the back of his own neck.

Steve stopped in mid-motion. "Oh, shit."

"Oh, my _God_," Danny growled. "You never had them either?"

Steve's voice was small. "No?"

"Well, we'd better eat and then get all the sleep we can, because between Kono and Chin and their constant bitching about itching and need for Epsom salt baths, and the fact that we're very quickly going to be in the same boat, we won't be sleeping much for the next week."

"Ah, _God_, it's right in the middle of my back!"

"Well, what the hell do you want _me_ to do about it?"

"Scratch my back and I'll scratch yours?"

"This is so wrong. On _so_ many levels."

"Ohhhhhh, yeah," Steve growled as Danny's fingertips pressed hard through the cotton of his tee shirt, "but it feels soooooo good."

* * *

><p>"Think we ought to tell them the pizza's here, cuz?"<p>

"Nah. Wouldn't want to interrupt their fun."

"They'll scratch each other raw."

Kono grinned as she took a bite of the pizza. "And we'll have miraculously recovered and returned to our own places by the time they need the baths to soothe their raw skin."

Chin narrowed his eyes. "You, little cousin, are the most evil woman on the face of the Earth."

"Danny saw me naked," Kono said with a shrug. "And he stared, so…payback's a bitch."

"Harsh."

"Eh," Kono said with another shrug, "it's not like seeing _Steve_ naked's going to be any hardship."

Chin just about choked on his bite of pizza, but decided to let it slide when the twinkle in his cousin's eyes told him she was goading him on purpose.

"Hey, when did the pizza get here?"

Kono and Chin turned to find Steve and Danny standing in the kitchen doorway absentmindedly scratching each other's backs.

"About the same time your hand went a little low on Danny, Boss."

The partners' hands jerked away from each other like they'd been burned.

Danny narrowed his eyes. "You, with my pizza in your hand. You're supposed to be in bed."

Kono smiled as she shoved the last of the slice into her mouth.

Danny pointed his finger at her. "You are _not_ a nice lady, Kalakaua. _You_ are a menace."

And Steve absolutely did _not_ make a sound like a purr when Danny's hand reached up, seemingly of its own volition, and scratched between his shoulder blades.

No matter how much Chin and Kono swore he _did_.

* * *

><p><strong>Way 46<br>Learn to enjoy what she enjoys.**

Steve had to admit that there was something to be said for the All-American Thanksgiving dinner.

Danny cooked a mean turkey.

He also happened to cook a mean green bean casserole.

The cornbread was sinful, especially with the melted honey and butter glaze covering every inch of it.

Then there was the stuffing.

Cranberry sauce, _homemade_, he could get behind, too.

And maybe the yams were a little sweet with that marshmallow topping, but he'd only had a tablespoonful.

But then…_then_…there'd been the pumpkin pie.

With homemade whipped cream.

Steve was still embarrassed about the moan that had come from his person when he'd taken his first bite of it. But he was mollified by the enormous pleased grin that had come from Danny as a result.

Grace, used to her father's extravagance where food was concerned, had enjoyed everything she'd stuffed her tummy with, and then had promptly fallen asleep on the couch, with her head on Danny's lap and her feet propped up on Steve's thigh.

"So first we had the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade," Steve whispered at one point, turning to look at his partner across the couch and the length of Grace's sleeping form. "That came with a breakfast casserole that you made last night."

"Yep."

"And then we had a light, late lunch which consisted of salad, while you cooked."

"Yes, Steven. I was there. I actually made the salad, if you recall."

"I _know_!" Steve said, lower lip jutting out in a pout. "And I get the whole thing about you being in the kitchen cooking all day with Grace's help, and the fact that I've had enough food today, that I shouldn't eat for the next week and then some."

"Right."

"Well, each part of the day has had a name, or at least, a theme. Parade and breakfast," Steve ticked the points off on his fingers, "lunch and cooking. Dinner. What's _this_ one called?" he asked, waving his hand in the air to encompass himself, Danny, Grace and the football game currently on TV.

"This?" Danny smiled as he looked down at Grace and lightly stroked her head while she napped on. "This is called family time."

Steve looked down at Grace, then back up at Danny. "Family time."

"Mmhm."

He returned his gaze to the television in time to see the Patriots score a field goal. "I like that," he said, a smile on his face.

"Good," was Danny's whispered reply.

Steve could hear the smile in his partner's voice.


	24. Ways 47 and 48

_Author's Note: Way 47 is a post-episode tag for "Po'ipu."_

**Way 47  
>Help straighten up the house before mealtime.<strong>**  
><strong>

Danny made his way into the destroyed house behind Steve, their feet the only things making noise in the eerie silence as they crunched the glass and bits of plaster and wood strewn on the floor.

Steve surveyed the destruction of his home with a critical eye and his usual stoic mask in place. But eyes were the windows to the soul, and in his time thus far as McGarrett's partner, Danny had become well-versed in what this particular pair of eyes conveyed at any given time. Maybe as a SEAL or during his days in Naval Intelligence, Steve had been able to hide what he was feeling. But either civilian life had stripped away his defenses, or he simply didn't feel the need to keep them up around Danny.

Whatever the reason, Danny saw nothing but betrayal written in eyes that had turned so hazel they were nearly brown. He couldn't imagine what it felt like having to murder someone you had once called friend. Couldn't imagine what sort of emotions it evoked to have known someone so very well, to have trusted your _life_ to that man, only to realize you didn't know them at all.

He wondered if the day would ever come when he would feel that way about Steve, but dismissed the thought as soon as it popped up. Steve? No. He believed in what he'd done during his years in the Navy, as staunchly as he believed in what Five-0 now did in Hawaii. The man had been whipped so many times by life already and yet still was willing to put that life on the line, sometimes to help the very people who might otherwise have been the next to let him down.

Danny wasn't someone who ever would, at least, not if it was within his power to keep it from happening. The one thing always sitting in the back of his mind, and undoubtedly in the back of Steve's, was that if Stan and Rachel decided to move away from Hawaii, Danny would have to follow.

It was a fucked up way to live your life, and Danny knew this. But he also knew that as few hours as he got with Grace now, it was better than even fewer hours, and way better than none at all; than just being a disembodied voice on the other end of a phone call. Even though they had video calls now, it wouldn't be the same because he would never be able to hold her, kiss her, watch her in person as she grew and matured.

But in spite of this fact, in spite of knowing as he did that the possibility existed that Danny could be yanked from Five-0…from Hawaii…from _Steve_…at any moment until Grace graduated high school, Danny _tried_. He tried to be the friend Steve needed, the partner that had his back. He tried like hell, prayed fervently every night, that Rachel and Stan wouldn't want to relocate yet again. That he would be allowed to stay where he was needed so badly by the team he loved as if they were his own flesh and blood.

But he couldn't ever make that guarantee, any more than Steve could have guaranteed his former buddy Nick Taylor would never turn on him or sit on the wrong side of the law. There was nothing Danny could do or say to ease the pain he knew Steve had to be feeling over what he'd been forced to do, and he wasn't sure he'd actually say the words anyway. For all his talk and bluster, when it came to deep-down feelings, Danny was as mum as any man's man.

So instead of either whispering, "I'm sorry," or starting a full-out senseless rant to try and return things to some semblance of normalcy, Danny instead grabbed the wastebasket that sat in the corner of the living room between the wall and the couch, bent over, and started picking the larger chunks of glass, plaster and wood from the floor. The couch. The chair. The table. Wherever he spotted them. Silently, with only the crunch of his shoes giving away he was moving at all.

He felt Steve's hand flat between his shoulder blades, righted himself and looked up into his partner's eyes. The sorrow was still there; the betrayal still firmly in place. But there was something else, too, that Danny read as the "Thank you" Steve's voice couldn't say.

He gave Steve a small smile and a shrug, and let his partner's hand fall away as he moved to the next dinner plate-sized piece of wall that needed to be picked up. He figured if he couldn't make Steve any promises about the future, at least he could be here for him in the present.

* * *

><p><strong>Way 48<br>Let her take a bubble bath while you do the dishes.**

"Avon. Avon has a warehouse in Honolulu. Of course they do."

Steve shot a sidelong glance at his partner. "So?"

"So," Danny bitched as Steve pulled the Camaro up to one of the visitor parking spaces and cut the engine. "Do you realize how much of my paycheck went to this goddamn company when Rachel and I were married? I ought to own _stock_ in this friggin' place."

"Bet you never guessed back then, that you'd be visiting one of their warehouses in the future to detain a suspected arms dealer."

"No, Steven, no, you are correct, my friend," Danny agreed while both shaking and nodding his head as the two got out of the car and closed the doors behind them. "Because never in my wildest dreams did I think I'd be leaving my beloved home state, never in my wildest dreams did I think a place like Hawaii had more crime happening on its shores than the entire tri-state area, and never _once_ did it occur to me that one of my wife's shiny new pink Avon hair dryers would contain the parts for handguns! So, no. I never did guess that I would be visiting an Avon warehouse to detain a guy doing just that."

The fond and amused look Steve was sending Danny's way changed at the exact same moment that Danny's short hairs stood on end. He rolled his eyes, grabbed for his weapon the same time as Steve pulled his own out and hissed, "Why do they always want to _shoot_?" just before a hail of bullets pelleted the double-doors in front of them. "Do you have _any_ idea how much I hate your goddamn island?" Danny whispered fiercely as Steve tried to peek through the bullet holes.

He was rewarded for his efforts with a new spray of bullets. The two men dove left and right, and the sound of a large engine revving up nearly deafened them.

"What the-?" Danny didn't have a chance to finish the question. A four-ton delivery truck slammed right through the double doors, sending him and Steve into self-preservation leaps so they wouldn't get run over.

Steve whipped around from his spot on the asphalt and fire at the trucks tires. Two of them burst, and the truck skidded sideways before tipping completely on its side. As Steve struggled to his feet and scanned for any sign of his partner, the box truck exploded.

See, Chin and Kono were well-schooled these days in the strange and sometimes amusing situations they wound up finding Steve and Danny in. In their mutual opinion, the men were both _lolo_ and deserved what they got for the most part. Especially when it involved embarrassing situations.

But this _particular_ situation, well…Kono wasn't going to let Danny live this down for a very, very long time, because…

…because in order to put the warehouse fire, that had been ignited by the exploding box truck, out, well…the Honolulu Fire Department had had to be liberal with the water.

…because the delivery truck that had busted through the warehouse doors, nearly killing the partners in the process, had been chock-full of a new set of deliveries bound for the North Shore, most of which were being delivered to a church who was putting together gift baskets to auction off in a New Roof Fundraiser.

…because when Chin and Kono arrived on-scene, it was to find Danny laying in a very large puddle of…bubbles.

Yes. Bubbles.

Like he'd taken a mini bubble bath.

There were bubbles covering his hair.

His chin.

His chest and legs.

Bubbles on his hands.

Bubbles _surrounding_ him so that he looked like he was nestled comfortably into them. In spite of the combination glare-and-scowl on his face.

Trouble was, when Steve trotted up to see how Danny was faring, he snickered, then lifted his hand to his mouth, finger crooked under his nose, to try and hide what he'd done.

But Danny was a father. There was _no_ hiding _anything_ from him.

So Chin and Kono wisely backed away, mindful of the murderous look of intent on Danny's face.

Steve bit his lip and looked all around for help, then looked back as Danny sat up, a hat-shaped mound of bubbles on his head. And Steve, well…he had the self-preservation instincts of a lemming, so he might've, uh…laughed.

He covered his mouth again, sucked his lips into his mouth and bit down hard to keep from doing it again as Danny rose to his feet with a huge mound of bubbles clinging to his crotch.

Danny took a step forward.

Steve was doomed.

As a doomed man, there was only one thing he could do.

"I'm just, uh…" Steve hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "I left some dishes in the sink…"

And like the brave Navy man he was, Steve _ran_.

Kono and Chin watched Danny swipe the bubbles from the parts of his body he could reach with as much dignity as he could muster. "Chin, I need you back at headquarters," he said evenly. _Too_ evenly.

"Why?" Chin asked, because he really _did_ want to know, what with such a massive cleanup required where they currently were.

"As soon as his GPS signal stops moving, I need you to text me the exact location."

"What're you going to do?" Kono asked, then wondered if maybe she _didn't_ want to know.

"After he's done doing his_ dishes_," Danny said with a sweet smile that, quite frankly, scared Chin a little bit, "I'm going to help him enjoy something that's been a favorite pastime of my daughters since she could sit up on her own."

Danny reached down and picked up a pink ridged bottle off the ground, smiled widely at the cousins, and headed for the Camaro.

"Was that…bubble bath he picked up?" Chin asked as he and Kono watched Danny get into the Camaro and screech out of the parking lot.

"Yeah," Kono replied. "I'm really, _really_ glad I'm not Steve right now."

"I'm really really glad I won't be Steve an _hour_ from now," Chin countered.

They looked at each other, conjured up images of Steve covered in bubbles and Danny standing by with a smug look on his face. All they could do was laugh, and hope wherever the partners wound up had cameras.

Blackmail material was _always_ a good thing when dealing with those two.


	25. Ways 49 and 50

**Way 49  
>Understand her physical limitations if you have several children.<strong>

There was just no way out of this that Steve could see, and he'd gotten himself out of plenty of sticky situations. But this one had him stumped.

And only seconds in which to do something about it.

The truck full of illegal immigrants was to his left. Danny, Chin, Kono, Lori and Max were to his right hovering around the two bodies that had been discovered; that had led them to the refugees to begin with.

But the problem wasn't either of those things, left or right. The problem was the two human traffickers, one of whom had a bomb trigger in his hand to blow the truck full of immigrants to smithereens. The other of whom had machine gun trained on the Five-0 team.

Left or right? Save the lives of what was probably dozens of innocent North Korean defectors who wanted nothing more than to escape the starvation and utter poverty they lived day in and day out? Or save the lives of his team, his _ohana_?

It was an impossible choice.

If he tackled the man with the bomb trigger, the trigger could still go off and kill all the immigrants. And the gunman would mow down his team before he could even blink.

If he tackled the gunman, he could still let loose a spray of bullets that might injure or kill one or more of the team, and the bomber would still trigger the bomb to go off.

For the first time since he'd listened to his father die over the phone from too far away to do anything about it, he was faced with a no-win situation. This time, however, Steve wasn't all alone holding a phone to his ear thousands of miles away from the one who needed his help the most.

Danny moved so fast he was nothing but a blur in Steve's peripheral. In that nanosecond, Steve made his move toward the bomber.

The machine gun fired wildly.

The bomb trigger skittered out of the bomber's hand across the asphalt.

Lori ran for the trigger.

Steve knocked the bomber's head against the pavement, rendering him unconscious. He hopped to his feet, saw Lori and Kono were headed for the truck to release the imprisoned immigrants, and then turned to where Chin had run to the side of two felled men.

One was the machine gun wielder, who was out cold with blood running down his temple.

The other was…

"Danny!" Steve heard his voice grate out painfully and winced at how desperate, how frightened he sounded even to himself. Very much the way he'd sounded when Danny had collapsed from the sarin poisoning. Very much the way he'd sounded when being led in handcuffs to a cruiser outside the governor's residence.

He was on his knees next to Danny, Chin on the other side.

There was blood on Danny's arm, and then eyelids blinked and blue eyes appeared.

"Christ," Danny groused as Chin and Steve helped him sit up. "Goddamn maniacs on this island."

Chin smiled, patted Danny on the back, and went to help Lori and Kono with the refugees.

Steve put his hand on Danny's shoulder. "Jesus, Danny." He thought maybe it came out as more of a huge sigh of relief than actual words, but his partner didn't seem to care.

"Just goes to show you," Danny grunted out as Steve pulled him to his feet, "you can't save the world on your own."

Steve smiled as Danny inspected the gash on his bicep through his torn shirt sleeve. "That's why I made you my backup."

Danny rolled his eyes and headed toward the EMTs who'd just pulled up. Steve just stood there watching the scene for a moment, unable to erase how it all could've gone so horribly wrong had Danny not been there. Had Danny not been _Danny_.

That was a nightmare he'd probably have for a long, long time.

But for now, they were all safe.

For now.

* * *

><p><strong>Way 50<br>Discipline the children in love, not anger.**

"God_dam_mit, Steven!"

"Sorry?"

"_Sorry_? Not cutting it, my friend, _not_ cutting it. You are going to get yourself _killed_, Jesus Christ, I can't stop the blood, he hit your femoral!"

"Danny, just…here…use my knife, cut the pant leg, use it as a…what're you doing?"

"Using my favorite shirt, and _this_ is why I wish I was still wearing ties. My ties, they would come in very useful right now. Damn you. Hey, hey, no passing out. SEALs don't pass out."

"Not…gonna…Danny."

"Yeah, right, you…that's it, you know what? This is _it_. You, _you_ are no longer allowed to do _anything_ until backup arrives. _That_ is your punishment for this latest shit you've gotten yourself into, you hear me?"

"Not always time—"

"Fuck off with the 'not always time' crap, McGarrett. There's not always time for a _lot_ of things, but you don't go running headfirst into danger just because you think you're goddamn Superman and can take on the world one grenade at a time!"

"Danny…"

"Stay with me, Steve. Come on. You still have to go stand in the corner like the shit that you are. Don't think you're getting out of that just because you're bleeding to death all over me, you hear me? Goddammit, Steven, stay with me!"

"Here…'m here…"

"Yeah, you're here all right, and as soon as they sew up your leg and let you go home, you are _staying_ home until you are one hundred percent and during that time you will _listen_ to the words coming out of my mouth, and you will _agree_ to every last one of them, because I am _not_ going to bury you, Steven, you hear me? Huh?"

"Danno."

"Dan—_God_. You're nothing but a…I don't even know what you are. Stop smiling at me like that. Do _not die_, McGarrett."

"Not…going to…Danny. Gotta…take my…punishment…still."

"That's right. That's right, you do. And I'm going to make you _pay_ for this right here until you _never_ go rushing into warehouses full of Samoan gang members on your own ever _again_. Got it?"

"Yeah. Got it."

"Bastard."

"Come on, you…you're not really…angry with me…"

"What? Yes, I _am_! I am _furious_ with you for doing this!"

"Nice…to know…you care."

"Jerk. Class A jerk."

"Me too, Danno."

"Shit. I got you, Steve, okay? I got you. I'll go easy on you this time. Twenty lashes instead of forty. Okay? Just stay with me."

"Okay…"


	26. Ways 51 and 52

**Way 51  
>Help her finish her goals, hobbies or education.<strong>

"I just…" Danny's voice trailed off, eyes maybe a little more wet than they should be, as he looked down at the letter in his hand.

It had come from his ex-wife's lawyer, and Danny had put off opening it for days for that reason alone, sure that Rachel was up to something yet again. In spite of their short-lived reconciliation, since returning to Stan, carrying Stan's child, she'd become…not nasty again, by any means, just…cold.

And he knew what she was capable of. Knew it all too well, and would put nothing past her in spite of what they'd nearly done together all those months ago.

His hand was shaking. He couldn't help it. Couldn't stop it.

_Mr. and Mrs. Edwards will be traveling to England for a period of five weeks…_

His heart had stopped upon reading those words, sure it meant the worst for him.

…_has requested you be granted…_

His breath hitched rereading it now.

…_temporary physical custody for the duration…_

But that wasn't even the most unexpected part of the whole thing.

…_Lieutenant Commander Steven J. McGarrett, duly appearing in the office of counsel…_

What was Steve's name doing in this letter from his ex-wife's lawyer, he had wondered.

…_guaranteed the time required to appropriately see to the needs of the minor child…_

Steve had…he'd…

Danny looked up and met his partner's eyes. Took in the look of uncertainty. The small smile. The hope that he'd done the right thing.

Danny remembered the final words that had almost broken him, but in the best possible way.

…_should the Edwards determine a longer-term stay in their destination is required, Mr. Williams will retain full physical and fifty percent legal custody of minor child with it fully understood…_

The letter fluttered to the floor of the motel room Danny was staying in.

…_that appropriate residence and care for the minor child will be arranged and provided for by Lieutenant Commander McGarrett, with his full cooperation and support._

Danny blinked rapidly, unable to keep the tears at bay. To hide them, he moved forward and enveloped his partner in a hug. A thank-you. Disbelief. Gratitude.

His daughter was his, at least for five weeks. All his.

And Steve, somehow, in some way only his freaky ninja self could've accomplished, had made it happen.

He felt Steve's arms squeeze him, his hand patting his back rather than slapping and clapping like usual.

"Merry Christmas, Danno," he whispered into Danny's ear. "Merry Christmas."

* * *

><p><strong>Way 52<br>Treat her as if God had stamped on her forehead, "Handle with Care."**

The tiny, perfectly-shaped Christmas tree twinkled with twelve tiny white lights that were all it needed to cover it. Small, round ornaments in red and green and blue and gold were placed here and there, with a small white angel resting at the peak, feathered white wings spread; palms together in prayer.

Surrounding the tree, made not of Nature, but of plastic, stood more cards than could be counted, wishing Merry Christmas along with hopes for a speedy recovery. Poinsettias grown in greenhouses, colored red and pink, white and green, lined nearly every once-empty space in the room.

There was no Christmas music playing in the quiet. Only the steady _beep-beep-beep-beep_ that told of a patient's beating heart, pierced the midnight hour between Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. There was no jolly figure in a red and white suit, nor hat, with red cheeks and nose, nor with black boots and belt.

There was only a man, smaller than he'd ever seemed, lying beneath blankets with cannula and plastic tubes bringing life-saving oxygen and fluids to his body. There was a patch of gauze at his temple; a cast on his forearm. Beneath the blankets, more bruises, more things broken, more damage than the body should ever have seen.

And standing watch over this small and broken man, in amongst the twinkling lights, the steady monitor blips and the bright colors of the plants and cards, was a man looking aged beyond his years. Beyond even that which had come before, in all his years traveling the world, putting his life in danger, risking everything to do right and bring justice to those who begged for it.

His hazel eyes were hidden beneath half-drooped lids. His body slumped uncomfortably in a chair. The remnants of cookies and gifts in his lap, brought by the broken man's pride and joy - a daughter, who instead of blaming the man she called 'uncle,' chose to shower him with love for saving her father's life.

The steady beep grew a little bit faster. The man rose to his feet, tall and rumpled, eyes wide open, staring down at the slack face. The broken man looked so young this way; the tall man looked so old.

It was Christmas.

He shouldn't be here.

Neither of them should.

But the tall man would stay until the broken one could leave. It was all he could do, the _most_ he could do. The _least_ he could do.

A finger twitched. An arm shifted. Lips parted and breath sighed. Eyelids moved, blinked, opened. A moment of confusion in blue-and-orange eyes, then recognition.

Then gratitude.

There was hardly a place the tall man could touch. Hardly a place that seemed unscathed. But the broken man beckoned with his eyes, and the tall man knew to be gentle. Careful. Knew what his best friend needed upon waking to find out he was shattered, but alive.

The tall man was shattered on the inside, but the eyes knew how to heal him, even as the doctors and machines and medicine healed his own broken bones and body.

A long-fingered hand reached out and closed around four fingers of a smaller hand, the only places that were still the color of flesh, with no wrappings or bandages or blacks and blues and purples of bruises. He squeezed. The four fingers squeezed back.

He would live. Surely, the best Christmas gift the tall man had ever known.

And around them in the dark, as the stroke of midnight came and went, stood the unseen guardians that had brought them this peace. Soundlessly their white robes fluttered in a heavenly breeze. Without a whisper their wings opened wide and then folded tight against their backs. Their glowing faces and hair, and hands and feet, held without moving, gazing at the two mere mortals before them.

They had seen them through this dark hour, bringing them this miracle on the eve of the Savior's birth. And though the men would never know of them, see them, or hear them, in their hearts they would feel them for the rest of their lives.

A tear slipped from the tall man's eyes.

Answered in kind by the one no longer quite so broken.


	27. Ways 53 and 54

**Way 53  
>Get rid of habits that annoy her.<strong>

Why was it that everyone who'd been in his life for any length of time always wound up betraying him in one way or another?

His own father's morals and actions were now in question.

His mentor, trainer, teacher, second father? Who knew? But the suspicion was there. Once there, it could never be erased, no matter how the whole thing played out.

Nick.

No, Cat never betrayed him, true. But she wasn't around enough for him to lean on, if he even wanted to.

Mary? Never would she betray him, and he knew it deep in his core. But again, not really around enough to make a difference. Steve didn't do well over the phone, and it was…well, it was _Mary_. His kid sister. Someone he wanted to protect from demons, not invite to inspect them.

He'd thought Chin had betrayed him, but of course he hadn't. Maybe the person he'd known the longest who _hadn't_, and wasn't even under any sort of suspicion whatsoever.

"_You need to do a better job of picking your friends."_

Well, considering he hadn't really _had_ a lot of 'friends' to begin with, Steve figured maybe Danny was right. It was easier _not_ to forge alliances. To not have to worry about whether or not you were going to trust someone, because that someone might just try to kill you. Or at least, give you up to your worst enemy.

Like Jenna.

Like Pat Jameson.

Christ.

He had Kono and Chin, now, and he trusted them without question.

And of course, Danny, who for some reason he'd trusted the moment they met. Funny quirk, that, trusting someone who's got you in his gun's sights.

Then again, Danny had gone along with it, too. Had told him on more than one occasion that he trusted him. Trusted him with _Grace_, and really, there was nothing more telling than that.

So maybe, if you didn't count the former governor or Jenna, Steve had started getting over the habit of forging friendships with people who were going to hurt him when he'd returned to Hawaii.

Which was one reason he'd not let Lori all the way in. At all. On Five-0 business? Yeah, sure. But there was a fine line between work and the personal in their world, and Steve would never let Lori cross that line with him. Wouldn't talk about 'feelings' like she was always trying to get him to do. Damn profiler.

Hell, he really didn't talk to _Danny_ about what he was feeling. Because for the most part, Steve wasn't sure himself. He'd gotten good at compartmentalizing in the Navy, and he continued the practice to this day.

It was easier to pretend it wasn't there than to deal with it.

Yet now, with Joe, with what he'd found out about John, it was just…Steve could admit to himself that he was a little overwhelmed. Unsure of his footing. Unsure of his place, really, in the scheme of things.

"_You've got this really annoying habit of thinking you're a superhero."_

Danny's words earlier that day had really gotten to him, because, well, maybe Danny was right.

"_You don't have to save everybody."_

Danny had saved _him_ more times than he could count. And not always in physical ways, in the midst of gunfights or with intel. Just by being…Danny.

So when he rapped his knuckles on the motel room door, and when Danny opened it – thankfully not handcuffed to anyone this time – Steve felt just a little of the weight lift from him. Danny's eyebrow arched, a silent question as to why Steve was there.

Steve just looked him in the eyes. He knew he'd need to say something eventually, but how does a man's man come out and tell his best friend and partner that he needs to talk about stuff? Not exactly comfortable territory. Feelings were almost as much the enemy as Wo Fat.

Maybe he had on one of the faces his partner seemed so keen to notice and catalogue, because Danny stepped aside and gestured for Steve to enter.

On some level, Steve knew once Danny closed the door, there was no escape. The air hung heavy with words he hadn't yet spoken. Steve had some bad habits, yeah, but bottling everything up was one that was slowly eating him away from the inside out.

It was time to start breaking that habit, and Danny looked like he was ready to help.

The door closed behind Steve.

Even as another one opened inside.

* * *

><p><strong>Way 54<br>Be gentle and thoughtful to her relatives.**

Danny frowned as the soft sounds of crying reached his ears. He'd come over to Steve's at ten on a Saturday morning to help him finish up with the Marquis and take her for a spin.

Hopefully, not one ending in pushing the behemoth uphill again, he had warned McGarrett fiercely.

But the sound of tears wasn't something a guy like Danny could ignore, so he followed the sound to the kitchen. Mary sat at the table, head in her hands. Wetness leaking through her fingers.

He'd never seen a McGarrett cry. He wasn't sure whether to stay or go.

But then she looked up. Looked right at him. Looked miserable.

"Hey," Danny said softly, closing the distance between them.

"He's going to get himself killed, Danny," she said, tears streaming down her face.

Fear rose like bile in Danny's throat. "What's he done?"

"Nothing yet, but…you know how he is. Throwing himself into danger, pursuing this whole thing with Wo Fat and Dad. He almost _died_ in Korea!"

"I know," Danny said. "I've tried for over a year to change that about him." Danny shrugged. "You can't. It's who he is." Mary smiled up at him, and Danny couldn't help but pull her into a hug, her face wetting his shirt over his abdomen. "I'll do everything I can to keep him from killing himself."

"I know you will," Mary replied. "It's the only reason I can sleep at night."

Two minutes later, Steve walked in to find his sister in Danny's arms. Mary backed away and wiped ineffectually at her face. "It's not what it looks like."

Steve looked from her to Danny and back again. He shrugged and the right side of his mouth quirked up in a grin. "I wouldn't mind if it was."

Mary and Danny both turned red, with Mary socking her brother in the arm as she headed for her room.

"Everything okay?" Steve asked as Danny shuffled his feet.

"Yeah," Danny replied.

Steve looked at him thoughtfully, then nodded his head once. "Come on, I've got a can of turtle wax out in the garage with your name on it." Danny followed him to the garage, took the offered rag and tin of wax he was handed and looked a little too long at his partner. "What?" Steve finally said.

"Maybe you, uh…maybe you should go talk to Mary."

"How come?"

Danny put the wax and rag down on the hood of the Marquis. "Think she just needs some reassurance."

"Looked to me like you were giving her enough of that."

It was said without sarcasm or malice, which Danny appreciated. "She's afraid you're going to get yourself killed," he said quietly. He locked his gaze with Steve's. "She's not the only one."

Steve's hand came out, rested on Danny's shoulder a moment, squeezed.

"I'm going to go apartment hunting. I think you should maybe do some sibling stuff with Mary," Danny said.

"I think," Steve countered, "the three of us should do something together."

"Oh, yeah? Like what?"

"They just opened a new laser tag place in Waikiki."

A grin spread slowly across Danny's face. "Now, that's the kind of gunplay I can get behind."

Steve smiled. "I thought you might say that. Come on. Let's go get my sister and make a day of it. What do you say?"

"I can do that," Danny said with a nod.

Yeah, he thought to himself, maybe Steve was going to get himself killed one day. Hell, the possibility always existed for any cop or military man.

But today, right here, right now, they could at least go about creating a memory that wasn't bad. And maybe in the end, that's all life was about anyway: trying to make the best out of the moments that weren't filled with the worst.

Laser tag sounded fun.

Watching a brother and sister finally be able to _act_ like a normal brother and sister, was going to be even better.


	28. Ways 55 and 56

**Way 55  
>Don't compare her relatives with yours in a negative way.<strong>

2011 was drawing to a close. Just a few more days, and they could kiss the Year from Hell good-bye.

Not that 2012 was shaping up to be that great given the current underpinnings of what Danny termed "hinky shit" all over the place.

"Hinky?"

"Hinky, my friend. Very, _very_ hinky. I don't trust him."

"What if he really is trying to keep me safe from something?"

"What if he's not? And really, Steve, what if he _is_? How does it help you to protect you from something, when you don't even know what that something is that could…do something…to you."

"Throwing words togeth-er," Steve sing-songed.

"Shut up. What I mean is—"

"I know what you mean. And you're right."

Danny sighed and drained his bottle of beer. He slapped it down on the counter and signaled the bartender. "You know, 2011 can kiss my ass, and if 2012 thinks she's going to be Eleven's bitch, she can kiss my ass, too."

"I'm with you," Steve said, raising his bottle in the air in a toast, then draining it as well.

The men leaned, elbows on the bar, watching as the bartender brought them each another Longboard. Watching as the condensation dripped down the bottle. Watching as it pooled on the pocked wooden bar top beneath.

"Matty sucks," Danny finally said.

"Wo Fat sucks worse."

"Point."

The men each took a drink.

"Jameson was a bitch," Steve offered.

"So's my sister, but at least she doesn't want to kill me."

"Give you that one," Steve agreed, and they drank again.

"Rachel," Danny said.

Steve didn't have to say a word. They clinked bottles and took three drinks to that one.

"I can't say I'm sorry Hesse is dead."

"Yeah, but the guy _did_ get you out of prison before you got shanked with intent by someone else."

"Maybe it earned him a step up in Hell," Steve replied, and they each drank again.

"So are we going to keep doing this until we're plastered or just pleasantly buzzing?"

Steve looked askance at his partner. "You don't have much more to bitch about. You've got the apple pie family from hell, partner."

Danny snorted. "You didn't have to grow up with them."

"Ah," Steve nodded, "point."

And they drained their bottles.

"So what's the plan for this New Year's Eve?" Danny asked as they slapped their empty bottles down on the bar, and both signaled for the bartender.

"Not to get killed, maimed or fucked over by someone I know," Steve replied easily. "You?"

"To watch the fireworks at the motel with Grace. I get her this year."

Steve nodded as the bartender brought them two more beers. He picked his up and glanced at Danny, who seemed to be studying him. "What?" he asked, then took a drink.

"As long as you promise not to try and 'help' with the fireworks, you're welcome to join us. I'm told I have the perfect view from my balcony."

Steve cocked his head, considering. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Grace'll love it."

"And you?"

Danny grinned as he brought his new bottle of beer to his mouth. "I'm the one who asked, aren't I?"

Steve smiled.

Well, maybe they'd start 2012 off right. And maybe, just maybe, that'd help pave the way for the rest of the year.

Steve wasn't so sure, but he was going to enjoy it while it lasted.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: Way 56 is crack. Given that the last time I warned you guys something I'd written was crack, and someone came back and said "that was so unbelievable," I think maybe I'd better explain what crack fic is. IT MEANS IT'S UNBELIEVABLE. *smiles*<em>

**Way 56  
>Thank her for things she has done without expecting anything in return.<strong>

Kono, Chin and Steve entered the bullpen, all of them with damp hair, all of them looking freshly showered. They fully expected to find Danny there with his hands on his hips giving them the stink eye for hitting the waves before work yet again.

"_Sniper rifles, Steven, you're just asking for someone to pick you off while you play fish boy!"_

Steve had scoffed, but weirdly enough, Danny's words had stayed in the back of his mind the entire morning, to the point where he'd definitely been scanning the beach for any sign of a sniper.

Christ, Danny's attitude was really starting to rub off on him.

They each went to their respective offices, noting Danny wasn't in his. In fact, there wasn't any sign he'd been there at all, except…

"Oh," Kono breathed as she noticed the square silver-wrapped gift topped with a huge silver bow, sitting on her desk. There was no tag on it. No note. It was the day after Christmas, they hadn't been in yesterday, so anyone could've left it.

She sat down, carefully opened the paper and gasped when she saw what was inside.

Chin saw his own gift seated atop his desk. His, however, was wrapped in gold, topped with a huge gold bow. He opened it, after seeing there was no note or card, and was astonished enough at what was inside that his jaw dropped and stayed that way.

Steve, for his part, had come in to find a large copper-colored wrapped gift with a matching copper-colored bow on it. He was suspicious by nature these days, but he'd noted through the windows that both Chin and Kono were still alive and hadn't been hit by grenades or other such devices from their own gifts, although they did look slightly gobsmacked.

He shrugged and opened the paper, figuring it must've been Danny who'd left the gifts for—

"Holy shit," he breathed when the contents became apparent.

The three of them walked back into the bullpen holding their gifts. They looked at each other's, admiring them silently, all six eyes large, all lips parted like they wanted, but couldn't figure out how, to speak.

"Where did he _get_ these from?" Kono finally whispered, as though hers might shatter if she spoke any louder. "I mean, it _has_ to be Danny, right?"

"That'd be my guess," Chin answered quietly. "But…it defies gravity, there's…nothing holding it up."

"Actually," came a voice from the double doors, "there _is_ something holding it up."

"What?" Kono and Chin asked simultaneously.

"Magic," Danny smiled as he came to stand in the center of them. "In a manner of speaking." He was wearing, not his usual button-down, dress slacks and highly inappropriate shoes, but a…

Steve looked him up and down. "Danny?"

Danny looked at Chin's, for lack of a better word, snow globe without the globe. There were tiny replicas of him and Malia taking their vows and kissing on their wedding day. The beach was there, the arch, the whole wedding party, all moving and blinking and, in Kono's case, wiping a tear from her eye. The voices were so _real_.

Danny then looked at Kono's gift, also a globe-without-a-globe, which was a continuous gigantic wave, with a tiny Kono on her equally tiny surfboard, riding it. The sound of the wave was real, it even smelled like salt, and Kono's hands and wrists were dotted with sea spray, like it really and truly was an ocean wave.

Finally, Danny looked at Steve's, just as his partner said, "I get theirs, but…I don't get this." He raised his own globe-without-a-globe into the air.

There was a rustling sound and then a slick-slide sound and then a loud _THWAP!_ They all blinked as two silver-white wings unfurled either side of Danny's body. His eyes were still blue, but almost seemed to glow, and his hair had gone completely blond instead of the dark-and-light mixture it usually was.

"Yours is easy," Danny said, and his voice held the faint tinkle of tiny bells behind every word. "It's us. Flying." He held out his hand.

Steve stared at him in wonder, carefully set down his gift on the computer table, and without a second thought, took Danny's hand. Danny led him back out the double doors. The cousins watched in disbelief, then turned to look at each other as soon as Danny and Steve were out of sight.

Together, they looked down at Steve's gift.

An angel who was a little on the short side, with blonde hair, bright blue eyes, silver-white wings and a fluttering white robe, was flying through the air holding the hand of a tall, dark-haired man in black cargo pants, a white tee shirt and a maroon button-down shirt left unbuttoned.

Surrounding them were fluffy white clouds and the bluest sky the cousins had ever seen.

"Danny's an…_angel_?" Kono squeaked.

"Uh…I…_guess_?" Chin replied, voice rising into the high registers at the end.

Kono scowled. "All I can say is, he'd better take _me_ flying next or I'll rip his wings off myself."

Just then, the mini Kono wiped out.

Chin could only laugh. "That's Danny, all right."


	29. Ways 57 and 58

**Way 57  
>Don't expect a band to play whenever you help with the housecleaning.<strong>

Danny was the type of guy who needed reassurance. He'd admitted as much to Steve when they first met, so he was also aware of it himself. Steve knew this.

And Danny, well, he _was_ a good cop. He _was_ good at what he did. He knew the procedural manual like the back of his hand, and made sure to let loose on his partner whenever he didn't follow it. Which was Danny's way of coping with stress. Steve knew this, too.

And while most people tended to stare in disbelief, or ask Steve questions like, "How the hell can you put up with that mouth?" or just shake their heads when Danny was in the middle of a particularly blistering commentary on Steve's intelligence, lineage or lack of common sense, Steve was okay with the verbal fruit salad. Because Danny's words and tone of voice were the temperature gauge by which he judged just how fucked up things truly were. Danny's voice belied amusement when he was just talking to talk, and Steve knew this.

But for all that Danny was self-aware enough to know he needed pats on the back from time to time; for all he was giving proper procedure lip service from dawn 'til dusk and yet still staying by Steve's side when he refused to _follow_ said procedure; for all that Danny's rants sometimes made less sense than an infant's baby talk, well…he didn't really seem to understand that other people need kudos, too.

Other people like…well, like _Steve_, for instance.

Yes, Steve.

Now, Steve was the kind of guy who, admittedly, fit Danny's perception of him as a 'shoot-first-and-ask-questions-later kind of a guy.' Yeah, Steve knew he was like this.

And Steve was also the kind of guy who generally didn't give a rat's ass what anyone else thought of him, or how he did things, as long as he was successful in accomplishing his mission at the end of the day. Lots of people had problems with such an attitude, and therefore didn't think very much of the Navy-man-turned-cop. Steve knew this, too.

And for all the understanding he had about his own lack of, as Danny put it, 'mammal-to-mammal' skills, Steve was able to empathize and sympathize when necessary; he was able to get information out of people – never mind that in many cases it was simply from terrifying them into spilling their guts – and he could be understanding about other peoples' emotions even as he faulted them for feeling them to begin with. Yet where daddies and little boys and younger sisters were concerned, well, he was a bit over-the-top. And, yes. Steve knew this as well.

But the one thing Steve would've liked, embedded somewhere in one of his partner's rants, was just some sort of tiny acknowledgement that he was doing a good thing here with Five-0. That in spite of his penchant for waiting until a suspect's nearly dead from multiple gunshot wounds to worry about Miranda; that in spite of the fact that Steve _was_ trying to improve his communication with his partner and others; and in spite of the fact that he was trying to keep from being looked upon by Hawaiians as the _lolo haole_ with a lot of guns, the one thing Steve wasn't getting from Danny was any sort of positivity.

For a while, Steve thought maybe just the fact that Danny was still hanging around in spite of Wo Fat and Jameson, in spite of Korea and Jenna, in spite of the constant turmoil that seemed to surround Steve every second of every day, was enough of a reassurance that he was at least _trying_, that he wouldn't need to hear the words.

But…he did.

So when he finished cleaning out Danny's old apartment for him on the evening of the day Danny had packed all his stuff into Steve's pickup for move-out, he scrubbed the floor and bathroom extra hard. He even shampooed the rug and bleached the shower. And as a final touch, he washed the windows and even touched up some scuffs on the walls.

Yes, he knew the apartment complex was going to be destroyed, but Danny still had to get his security deposit back after all, and had made no bones about the "idiot landlord" demanding the apartments "be spotless" when the tenants left, in spite of the fact that they'd be rubble within a week.

So.

So Danny returned from his chat with the landlord and handing the keys in. The landlord was with him.

Danny's eyes widened when he stepped into the apartment, the big, fat Samoan dude with him obviously looking for anything he could find that he could claim was damage to the place.

There was _nothing_ for him to find, and Steve knew it. Hell, he'd even sanded the rust off the elbow joint of the pipes under the kitchen sink.

After a seemingly endless forty-five minutes, the Samoan landlord finally, begrudgingly, signed a piece of paper saying Danny's full security deposit would be returned to him within seven business days via direct deposit to his bank account.

Danny looked relieved; Lord knew he needed the money, so Steve understood.

Then the landlord left, and Danny closed the door behind him. Steve stood in a lazy slouch, hands in the pockets of his cargo pants, mouth quirked up in a half-grin.

"Don't you think you went a little overboard?" Danny asked and inwardly, Steve rolled his eyes. His partner just _had_ to focus on the negative, didn't he? "I mean, waxing the kitchen floor? Cleaning out the _inside_ of the toilet tank? Repainting the _window_ frame?"

Steve couldn't take it anymore, and honest-to-God pouted. "I just wanted to make sure you got your whole deposit back," he said.

Danny was quiet, and this meant, of course, that Steve just had to look up to see what sort of Danny-version of Aneurism Face he was dealing with here.

But Danny's face didn't resemble aneurisms or constipation or even annoyance. No. The man was _beaming_ like he'd just seen Grace for the first time in a month.

"You tackle mundane shit like this the same way you do everything else, don't you?"

"I don't follow," Steve replied honestly.

"Damn the torpedoes!" Danny exclaimed, hands waving around in circles, swoops and arcs. "Full speed ahead!"

Steve shrugged. "Pretty much."

"Well," Danny said, stuffing his hands into his pockets and rocking back and forth from heels to toes as he looked around his shithole place one last time. "Thanks. For being all…" His hand flapped like he was trying to part words until he found the right one. "You."

And _there_.

_There_ it was.

Steve grinned.

Danny grinned back.

All the reassurance he needed, delivered in the way only Danny could.

Maybe Danny was a lot more aware of what Steve needed, than Steve knew.

* * *

><p><strong>Way 58<br>Make sure she understands everything you're planning to do.**

"Okay, we—we're going to do _what_ now?"

"Danny, how many times do I have to go over this? It's not that complicated. I went on missions that were—"

"Steven, do _not_ tell me about your goddamn Navy missions. We are _cops_, not the military! Nothing cops do should be this complicated!"

"It's _not com_plicated!"

"Steven."

"Daniel."

"Fuck."

"You can that again. Now. Concentrate."

"Do _not_ speak to me like I am six!"

"Just move with me."

"In case you missed it, I'm a few inches shorter than you, asshole."

"What's your point?"

"You can lift higher than I can!"

"Okay, fine, I'll bend down. How's that?"

"Height jokes with your body language. Cute."

"Danny, Christ, stop bitching and just _carry_!"

"Fine! I'm carrying!"

"Okay, now go a little to your right…_other_ right, Danny!"

"Goddamn I-gotta-be-in-charge-of-every-freaking-thing—"

"Do you, or do you not, want this thing to be safe from tipping?"

"Of _course_ I do! I don't want my baby girl's skull cracking open!"

"It wouldn't crack open on the sand, Danny, it'd just—"

"You, just…shut up. And stop glaring at me. You couldn't get a simple metal swingset, could you? No. You had to go all Rich Uncle on her and buy her the biggest, heaviest wooden jungle gym ever to exist. If I throw my back out, McGarrett—"

"Danny, you're in perfect shape, you're not throwing anything out. There…to the left about an inch. Perfect."

"I'm in perfect shape, huh? Then why do I feel like I just got hit by a pineapple truck?"

"What do you think?"

"About the pineapple truck?"

"About the _jungle gym_!"

"Oh. Yeah. It's good."

"Good? That's it, that's all you can say is it's good? Danny, she'll be the envy of every rich kid in her school with a playhouse-slash-swingset-slash-slide-slash-gymnastics thing."

"Steve, it's beautiful. Really. Unnecessary, because I don't want my daughter raised not understanding what it's like to be a working class schlub since that's her roots, it's just…"

"What? It's just what?"

"I just wish I'd known when I mentioned what Grace wanted that you were planning on going all gung-ho on it like this. I mean, offering your beach for her and her friends to use, getting this behemoth of a thing delivered and insisting you and I could move it even though there were three men the size of _tanks_ that delivered it, well, it's all good, you know? But…I don't want you to think you should buy her affections like Step-Stan does."

"Danny. Hey, look at me. I know I don't have to buy Grace's affections. She's already told me she loves me, and that was when all I did was give her a conch shell I found on the beach when I went surfing one morning."

"She told you that, huh?"

"Yeah. And it was, you know, nice. And it made me feel like I wanted to repay the favor, so…jungle gym."

"Next time, Steven, maybe just try telling her you love her, too."

"Okay, but I bet that won't make her squeal like this will."

"Don't be so sure. She's got a major crush on you."

"Really?"

"Do _not_ look so happy about that. The jungle gym's only going to make it worse."

"Then we'll tell her _you_ bought it for her. Or that maybe the whole team pitched in or something."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"That's not necessary, it's just…you know…don't need my kid crushing on my partner. It's weird. Besides, you already get enough of that, and your ego's too inflated as it is."

"Whatever you say, Danno."

"It really _is_ a nice jungle gym."

"Wanna try out the slide?"

"What are you, ten?"

"Come on, Danny…"

"Race you to the top."

"You're _on_, partner."

* * *

><p><em><strong>WARNING!<strong> Shameless Self-Promotion Alert: For those of you who may be new to me, and to my writing, I just thought I'd put a little note in here to let you know that I have a book published, available on Amazon in Kindle format. It's called "TAKERS" and if you go to Amazon DOT com (or any of the non-U.S. Amazon sites), and search for 'TAKERS Chris Davis,' you should find it easily. Send me a private message if you are unable to locate it. You can read the first four-and-a-half chapters in preview there, too. If you don't have a Kindle, there's a free Kindle for PC application you can download to your computer to read the book from. You can also check out my author blog at triple-w DOT authorcdavis DOT com._


	30. Ways 59 and 60

**Way 59  
>Do little things for her - an unexpected kiss, coffee in bed.<strong>

"Hey. What're you doing here?"

"A little bird told me you had a cold."

"That little bird _achoo!_ by any chance have brown eyes?"

"And a cell phone, and the means to use it."

"What's that in your hand?"

"Poison, Danno, what's it look like?"

"Coffee? For me?"

"Well, you don't look like you're in any shape to get out of bed, so…yeah."

"Thanks."

***HONK!***

"Warn me before you blow your nose next time."

"Sorry. So why the coffee in bed?"

"Well, it was my compromise to Grace."

"Compromise? _Achoo!_"

"Yep. She said when you were sick, a kiss from her always made you feel better."

"Oh. I assume she suggested you should try it."

"Yeah. So…coffee."

"Good call. _Aaaah-chooo!_"

"No kidding. Maybe when you're all better."

***HONK!***

"I will break every bone in your body if you even _try_, McGarrett."

* * *

><p><strong>Way 60<br>Treat her as an intellectual equal.**

"Steven, I do not _care_ what your mother and father let you do when you were nine years old, my daughter will _not_ be going on a Hawaiian Forest Jungle Survival Retreat!"

"But Danno, it's perfectly safe, there's a guide for every two kids. She'll love it!"

"Oh, sure, _she'll_ love it. And for two whole days during which I could've been sitting safely in my hotel suite living room, watching mind-numbing cartoons, coloring Disney princesses with far too much pink and lavender, and cooking mac and cheese for every meal, I will instead be admitted to the ER for having several coronary events as I imagine all the ways a ten-year old girl tromping around the forest with _you_ could get herself hurt or _worse_! No, my friend. No. I will _not_ send my perfect, beautiful, _only_ child out into places where cell phone signals fear to go, with _you_."

"Danny. Do you think I'm stupid or something?"

"Stupid? No, not exactly. A little unaware of the potential dangers of the _world_, yes, but not stupid."

"Do you _really_ think I would ever let anything happen to Gracie?"

"Intentionally? No."

"Danny, she couldn't be safer than with someone like me looking after her. I _lived_ in a jungle for three-and-a-half months on one mission alone, and not a single thing happened to me."

"McGarrett, listen to me and listen to me carefully. When you have done something much more profound with your loins than girding them on a daily basis with more weapons than are kept down at Pearl, _then_ you can talk to me about what is appropriate for my ten-year old daughter to be doing!"

"Why, Danno, is that an invitation?"

"You. I have _no_ _words_ for you."

…

…

"So, what time should I pick her up from her mom's? Danno? Why are you facepalming?"


	31. Ways 61 and 62

**Way 61  
>Find out if she wants to be treated as physically weaker.<strong>

It had been a long, long road, but finally, he was home.

Well…at least…he was at _Steve's_ home.

He still insisted that within a couple of weeks he'd be back to apartment-hunting for his own place, because he was _not_ living with Mr. Three-Minute-Navy-Shower indefinitely.

He still insisted that he could walk with the aid of the two metal crutches with the plastic bands that circled his arms to keep them in place as he dragged himself forward, even though it had taken fifteen minutes for him to get from Steve's truck, halfway to the front door of the house.

He still insisted he'd be fine to be back at work by Monday, even though he hadn't been able to keep himself awake for more than sixty-two minutes at a stretch.

Yes, Steve had timed it.

Danny Williams was nothing if not stubborn, however. Stubborn and mouthy even on enough painkillers to choke a horse.

And Steve? Steve had found the patience of a saint.

He hovered, but not close enough that Danny read it as such.

He was on full alert 24/7, though Danny never knew it since Steve kept himself at generous physical distance.

He worried, like he'd never worried about anyone but maybe his little sister.

Danny would be okay, eventually, everyone knew that. The doctors had been able to repair where the falling beam in the burning house had ruptured two of Danny's discs and broken three vertebrae. His spinal cord hadn't been damaged, but when offered the choice between a walker and the paraplegic crutches to assist with mobility, Danny had chosen the crutches, even though it caused him more pain.

And dammit if he didn't drag himself to the front door.

_You got _that_ right_, the defiant jut of his chin seemed to say, even as his eyelids drooped in exhaustion.

Steve unlocked and opened the front door. He shut off the alarm. He went inside and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

He peeked through the front window. Danny stood in the same place Steve had left him, looking more and more forlorn with each passing second as he seemed to come to the realization that the crutches, his back and legs, and the few steps, were completely incompatible at the moment.

Steve moved to stand in the front door.

Danny looked up and caught his gaze.

A moment of silent conversation.

Steve moved to Danny, carefully took the crutches from his arms, and set them inside the front door, leaving Danny leaning heavily against the nearest white post that held up the patio above.

Returning to ground level, Steve put his hand on Danny's shoulder, silently asking one more time if he was okay with this. All the fight left the shorter man, and Steve carefully, gently, lifted him into his arms.

Danny didn't even remember Steve putting him to bed, already asleep with his head against Steve's shoulder before they'd made it to the staircase.

But Steve had carefully undressed his partner, tucked him in, and left his medicine and a bottle of water on the nightstand in his childhood bedroom, before going through his nightly routine and heading for bed.

Steve would sleep all night with an ear to the ground and an eye half-open, just in case.

In the morning, Danny would be Danny again, pretending that he hadn't been held against Steve like a small child, his body unwilling to muster up its usual strength and defiance in the face of the injuries it was recovering from.

But Steve didn't mind. _Just because Danny needed help, didn't mean Danny was weak._

And in the silence of his room, with only the light of a crescent moon to see by, that was Steve's epiphany. What Danny had been trying to tell him since the day they'd met at gunpoint. What Danny had been trying to say with words and without words for almost four years now.

Steve smiled as he closed his eyes and nestled into his pillow.

Message received.

Delivered in a way only Danny Williams could.

Just because you need help…doesn't mean you're weak.

* * *

><p><strong>Way 62<br>Discover her fears in life.**

It had _finally_ happened.

Steve had _finally_ gotten Danny to go into the water with him.

Sure, they were just out behind Steve's house, but hey, it was the water, so Steve didn't care if they never made it to a public beach.

Fact was, Danny'd been telling the truth. He _could_ swim.

Of course he could. Danny never lied. Stretched the truth, maybe, like telling Dr. Gabby he was five-six when he was actually five-five, but hey, that kind of stretching Steve could understand.

So here they were on a Saturday afternoon. No pressing cases, no real paperwork to speak of, and a desire by Kono to go to the North Shore, and by Chin to spend an uninterrupted weekend in bed with his wife ("Chin, I love you, man, but that was seriously TMI," Danny had needled), and a Grace-less weekend, had led the guys who were together nearly every day of the week – and sometimes every night, too – to find themselves together once again.

Steve had suggested trying out the latest _Call of Duty_ video game.

Danny had refused, stating that Steve had an unfair advantage as a military man.

Steve had snorted.

Danny had suggested kicking back on the couch with beers, popcorn and whatever sporting event happened to be on one of Steve's six hundred-plus satellite channels.

Steve had called Danny boring.

Danny had punched him in the arm.

That's when Steve had challenged, and Danny had _met_ that challenge.

Two pairs of swim trunks, two huge beach towels and about half a bottle of SPF 60 later, Danny Williams was actually _swimming_.

So Steve treaded water with a ridiculous – and yes, he was aware of this – grin on his face as he watched Danny try to sweep the hair back out of his eyes, finally give up, and dip his head backwards into the water, then come up with it plastered back like he'd purposely combed and gelled it into place.

There were half-hearted splashes exchanged, a little bit of floating on their backs, and for Steve, a fast half-mile out and back to the sounds of Danny grousing about being left alone in the water, of course Steve would ask him out there and then _leave_ him there, because…_Steve_.

Like that one word – his name – said in that one particular way, was the answer for, and cause behind, every inexplicable thing in Danny's life.

Steve shrugged. For all he knew, maybe it was.

Suddenly his arms stopped moving as Danny swam up to him, dipped his head backward again, and smoothed the hair and water back along his head as he came up.

Suddenly Steve's legs stopped moving, and he began to sink before kicking them just enough to keep his head above water, as Danny gave him ever-loving shit about leaving him all on his own in these damn shark and jellyfish-infested waters.

Suddenly his eyes widened as they looked down and to the left of Danny's right shoulder. Steve swallowed hard, lips parted slightly.

Danny stopped ranting. "What?" he said.

Then Danny felt something brush against his right shoulder, and his left hand automatically came up to push it away. "Damn seaweed, and that had _better_ been seaweed, McGarrett, because if that was a jellyfish and I wind up blown up like a balloon because you made me come in here—"

"_Danny_!"

Steve moved so fast that Danny had _no_ idea anything had happened until it was all over, and he was sitting _on his partner's shoulders_ without even his _feet_ in the water, Steve moving fast as lightning back up to shore.

Surprisingly, Danny was still, instead of wiggling to get away.

When they reached the sand, and cleared the water's edge, Steve crouched low, and Danny slid down his partner's back with as much dignity as he could muster, under the circumstances.

"Steven," Danny said quietly. "Would you mind telling me why you just gave me a shoulder-ride back to shore? Not that it wasn't fun, and reminiscent of childhood antics with my father, and not that I think I'll get any real insight into how that _insane_ mind of yours works, but how about we start out with you answering what the _fuck_ that was about, mm?"

"Yellow Bellied Sea Snake," Steve said, eyes still as big and round as saucers.

"Water snake? What's the big deal, they're harmless, aren't they?"

"Not these. I've never heard of anyone actually _seeing_ one."

Danny's face drained of all color as his eyes met Steve's.

"You can die from their venom," Steve whispered.

It was the first time Danny had ever seen fear in his best friend's eyes.

Somehow, the fact that it stemmed from the possibility of harm coming to Danny was comforting to him in some twisted way.

And of course, it went without saying that Danny wouldn't be getting into the water surrounding Hawaii ever _ever_ again.


	32. Ways 63 and 64

_Author's Note: Of necessity, Way 63 is a companion piece to Way 62, so you'll need to read 62 first if you haven't already!_

**Way 63  
>See what you can do to eliminate those fears.<strong>

Danny still didn't have all his color back in his face. He knew this because he was currently standing in the bathroom at the end of Steve's second-floor hallway, staring at himself in the mirror over the sink.

A poisonous snake…he'd swatted away a goddamn poisonous _snake_!

Because really, for all the bluster and all the shit he gave McGarrett, Danny never truly believed any harm would come to him in the waters surrounding Hawaii. At least, not if Steve was with him.

True to form, Steve once again hadn't disappointed. And while part of Danny wanted to rail on about how caveman can you be, just lifting and carrying your partner back to shore rather than oh, he didn't know, giving him some sort of verbal warning…the other part of him knew that Steve's act-first-and-talk-never _modus operandi_ had probably been the one and only thing that had saved Danny's life.

A goddamn snake.

That nobody had ever actually _seen_. So rarely encountered it was almost a fable amongst the people of Hawaii. Danny himself had heard the legend, as told to him by his daughter one evening after school, where the class had read about the legend and then discussed it.

Grace's teacher had said that these snakes were real, but Grace had been doubtful.

Danny was really _really_ glad his daughter's doubt hadn't been erased by being forced to confront his cold, dead body in a casket courtesy of said snake.

It'd only been about forty-five minutes since the incident. Steve had made several phone calls, and was now out back on his beach with four sea experts, Chin and Kono, and a couple more people Danny didn't have a clue who they were.

Every now and again he heard snatches of the conversation, and it was all about getting into the water and finding that snake, and getting it the hell out of Steve's water space. Danny just _knew_ Steve was going to try and hunt the damn thing down, because he knew Steve felt personally responsible and personally wronged by the thing.

Responsible for the fact that Danny would _never_ go in the water again. Wronged because when he'd finally _gotten_ Danny into the water, _that damn snake_ had happened.

Yeah, Danny was scared. Even moreso for his little baby girl going into the water, and all he wanted to do was call Rachel and _demand_ upon pain of _death_ that she never let Grace in the ocean again.

But Grace was more likely to get hit by a car on any given day than she was to get bitten by a venomous Yellow Bellied Sea Snake. Hell, Danny was more likely to take a bullet to the _head_ with McGarrett as his partner, than he was to get bitten by a snake of any kind.

And yet it had almost happened.

He turned when the bathroom door opened. Steve loomed, swim trunks still damp from earlier. He stared at Danny in the mirror, eyes still huge, round. Frightened.

And Danny's mind offered an image of those eyes being large, round and _dead_ if Steve went back into the water after the snake. It made a shiver run through him, and his own eyes grew large as he stared hard back at Steve.

He wanted to say, "Don't do it. Don't go out there." He wanted to say, "Let the experts handle it, that's what they're trained for." He wanted to say, "Don't you get that we're both scared of the same goddamn thing?"

But he said none of that. All he said was "Steve."

And right there in front of him, Steve pushed his swim trunks down over his stupidly long giraffe legs and stepped out of them, leaving them lying in a damp pile on the tile of the bathroom floor. He disappeared into his bedroom and returned moments later wearing a pair of cargo shorts and a tee shirt. In his hand, he held two of the same for his partner.

Danny felt the tension slowly uncoil from where it'd taken up a tight hold around his neck.

Steve was listening to everything he wasn't saying. Responding to what Danny couldn't ask. Steve would stay out of the water. He'd stay safe.

At least for today.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: *facepalm* I should know better than to do these 100 Ways – you'd think I would have learned my lesson first time around, but noooooo. Talk about a challenge…witness Way 64. *shakes head*<em>

**Way 64  
>Discover her sexual needs.<strong>

All right, so, thing is, Danny hasn't had sex in, like…okay, forever. For_ever_.

And really, he hasn't been looking for anyone. Relationships. Complicated. Messy. Gah.

Until he gets back together with Rachel for the second biggest clusterfuck of his life, and then, of course, no protection is used, because…ex-wife, right? Clean, right?

Sure.

Then _baby scare_, and you know, it isn't really a scare, because it makes Danny happy.

Then, hey, let's see the Universe do its version of a smackdown on the life of one Daniel Williams, just for shits and giggles and whoops, there, out the door again goes promised happiness.

So Danny, he gives up on the whole sex thing. Sex is overrated. Sure, it is.

You know.

Well.

Then he meets Dr. Asano and oh, _shit_, down goes Danny, falls hard, _bam_, right over the edge of the cliff and dammit, if McGarrett not only notices, but gives him ever-loving grief about it.

Bastard.

So, yeah, thing is, now Danny's gone on a date or two or ten, and he's kissed the girl, oh, my has he kissed the girl.

He'll even admit to hands going places not meant for public consumption, all right?

But, uh…well…Danny's a little…unprepared for anything more.

He keeps thinking, sure, I'll stop by the drugstore on my way home. Only thing is, he's never alone because Steve, just…_Steve_, Christ, the guy's always _there_ and oh, _God_, if Danny ever buys condoms with McGarrett hanging around, he will _never_ live it down. Like…ever. Steve. He just sort of…holds on like a goddamn pitbull, he'll give Danny _no mercy_.

Oh, Danny can probably go back out on his own after Steve leaves him at his hotel, you know, except for how _Steve takes his goddamn Camaro home with him_!

So Danny blames this whole situation right here, this whole thing where he's now making out on the couch in his hotel suite living room with Gabby and can't go any goddamn further and it's making her think he doesn't _want_ to get to second base, third base, or home run territory, he blames it all on _Steve_.

Bastard.

Danny excuses himself, something lame, wonders if Gabby'll just up and leave thinking Danny's too emotionally retarded or insecure to just whip her clothes off and have his way with her, she _does_ keep giving him funny looks and none-too-subtle hints if her hand dropping down the front of his trousers is any indication.

Oh, how he wants her.

Oh, how he _hates_ his partner.

So, _so_ much.

Banging on the bathroom mirror in frustration, he winds up hitting it so hard that it pops open and _what the hell_?

Right there.

Front and center.

Hoooooly _shit_.

A box of Trojans.

With a teeny tiny yellow post-it note stuck to it.

_Might come in handy_ in Steve-scrawl.

Danny grabs the box, opens it, hauls out a strip of condoms, swears to _God_ he is now officially in love with his partner 'til the end of time, and heads back out to the living room.

Gabby hasn't left, bless her sweet self.

And Danny's gonna make sure she doesn't. He's got enough of these now for a _very_ Happy New Year indeed.

He might even go so far as to kiss McGarrett Monday morning for saving his bacon. Right there in front of Lori, in front of Chin, in front of Kono. Hell, maybe even in front of the governor, if he's around.

Hey, Danny knows how to properly give thanks. But he's _still_ Danny.


	33. Ways 65 and 66

_Author's Note: This is becoming a habit. Way 65 is now officially a companion piece to Way 64. *sighs dramatically*_

**Way 65  
>Ask if she wants to discuss how you can meet her sexual needs.<strong>

So Danny, he's, oh yeah, he's a _happy happy_ man come Monday morning, January the Second of Two Thousand and Twelve. He's so happy he's sporting a grin that, well, really leaves nothing to the imagination as to _why_ he's so damn happy, and the thing is, he could really care less.

When he practically bounces into HQ at eight on the dot, he's actually _whistling_ and Kono's eyes widen and Chin can't stifle his grin because, let's face it, he's stupidly happy too, what with the whole being in love, just married and getting laid on a regular basis thing happening.

So the only one left to see Danny in his highly happy state is his partner, and Steve, well, he can't hide his shit-eating grin for nothing, because after all, he's the Trojan-buyer, the note-leaver, the dude who got into Danny's hotel suite without Danny knowing about it because, yeah, he's super stealthy like that. He's also a good friend like that, but he's still Steve.

But, you know, he doesn't quite count on Danny still being Danny, and so when Danny breezes into his office all aglow, and when Steve stands up, both of them smiling like they've just inhaled a lifetime supply of morphine mixed with LSD, Steve's not quite prepared for what happens next.

And what happens next?

Danny marches right up to him, reaches up and puts his hand on the back of Steve's neck, hauls him down to within mauling distance, and plants a big, wet sloppy kiss smack-dab center of Steve's lips.

"I," Danny says, releasing Steve and backing away as he rubs his hands together, "am completely and totally in love with you, man."

With that, Danny practically _skips_ out of Steve's office, not looking back, and heads to his own, where – within only seconds – he's on the phone with one Dr. Gabrielle Asano making plans for the evening.

And Steve?

Steve's just standing there.

In the middle of his office.

With Danny's spit on his lips.

Wondering just how many of those condoms Danny and Gabby went through, exactly.

And thinking…Danny's in love with him, huh? Oh, he's _so_ got a dozen free passes for hanging a guy off a roof or throwing a guy in a shark cage now. _Good move, Commander_, he congratulates himself.

Steve resolves to make another trip to the drugstore after work today.

He wants to keep Danny stocked, after all.

* * *

><p><strong>Way 66<br>Find out what makes her insecure.**

"I don't understand. I thought things were going good between you two."

"They were. _Are_."

"Then why are you going to break it off with her?"

Danny sighs. He runs a hand through his hair a couple times, leans back in the beach chair, swallows down half his bottle of beer.

Steve's still waiting for an answer.

Danny sighs again before finally giving him one. "I fucked up the best thing to ever happen to me once," he admits, eyes locked on the calm waters before them. "I was an inadequate husband, and I lost the love of my life and my family, because of it."

Steve stays silent. Danny doesn't usually talk about stuff this close to the belt, any more than Steve does, so it's time for a listen, not a gratuitous rebuttal.

"Then I had to come here just to be close to the most perfect creation on this planet, and I've never felt at home, never felt comfortable, like I could actually belong here."

Steve is still silent, even though every part of him wants to yell at Danny that he _does_ belong here.

"And, you know, I just can't compete with Step-Stan most of the time. First the bunny. Then the trip to Switzerland. Then the birthday party with a professional circus in their back yard. I can never hope to compete with that."

Steve watches his partner carefully. When it becomes clear that's all Danny's going to say on the matter, and when Steve's adequately put two and two together and figured out Danny's decided he doesn't want to make the same mistakes again with Gabby, he thinks he can say his piece now. And his piece consists of:

"If you and Rachel hadn't divorced; if Rachel hadn't remarried and moved here with Grace; if you hadn't followed Grace to Hawaii? You would never have met Gabby, _and_," he raises a finger in the air for emphasis, "Grace gets something from you that she'll never get from Step-Stan."

Danny takes another swig from his bottle, then turns to look at his partner. "Yeah?"

Steve just looks at him, like, I am _so_ not repeating that, bro, the whole _feelings_ thing, you know?

Danny grins, whips out his phone, and speed-dials Gabby.

Steve watches him light up like a Christmas tree when she answers. Watches as Danny gets up and makes plans to introduce Gabby and Grace for the first time this weekend. Listens as Danny also includes Uncle Steve in that gathering.

So Steve won't be alone while Catherine's out to sea.

So Steve understands how grateful Danny is for his friendship.

Danny turns to look at Steve as he hangs up the phone.

So Steve will finally realize he won't ever be second fiddle even if the whole thing with Gabby works out the way Danny's really starting to hope it will.

They share a smile.

Some things don't actually need to be said.


	34. Ways 67 and 68

**Way 67  
>Plan your future together.<strong>

"Just out of general curiosity, how far ahead do you typically plan something out. You know, just…on a normal basis."

"That depends."

"On?"

"On whether lives are in danger."

"Ah. And if they are?"

"About five minutes."

"Five minutes, he says. Hence why he never calls for backup. Since backup usually takes, I don't know, ten. What's that goddamn goofy grin about?"

"Now you get it, Danno."

"I get nothing. At all. You only plan five minutes ahead if lives are in danger, so you don't call for backup."

"Exactly."

"I'm going to regret asking this, but is there some reason behind not planning more than five minutes ahead?"

"Yes. There is."

"Go ahead, McGarrett. Enlighten me."

"Taking more than five minutes to execute a rescue isn't an option."

"Really. Let me guess, that's a Navy thing."

"No. It's a Steve thing."

"A Steve thing. How many 'Steve things' are there, exactly? I only ask because I feel I should be schooled in these 'Steve things' since, you know, I'm your partner and all."

"There's only one other 'Steve thing,' Danny."

"Oh? Do tell."

"Come out the same way I came in."

"Cryptic. Explain."

"With you next to me."

"O…oh. Well, uh…yeah. That's, uh…that's a 'Steve thing' I can get behind."

"I knew you'd start seeing things my way."

"What? No. _No_, no, this is not me seeing things your way, this is…wait, where are you going? Steven, for the love of God, I am _not_ finished with you yet…"

* * *

><p><strong>Way 68<br>Practice common courtesies like holding the door for her, pouring her coffee.**

"All right, that's it."

"What _now_?"

"Why do you always hold the door open for me? Do I _look_ like the girl here?"

"_What_?"

"You. Always with the door-holding and the…the topping off my cuppa in the morning, and the…with the…chivalry shit. You think I don't recognize that behavior? I do, my friend, and the reason that I do is because Williams men are _known_ for their extraordinarily chivalrous behavior but _we_ only use it on _girls_. So I ask you, once again, what is with the damn opening the door for me bullshit all the time?"

"Uh…"

…

"I'm sorry, it's just…you're…and I'm…you know."

"Words, Steven. Use. Your Words. In an intelligent fashion? Maybe, I don't know, strung together as a sentence?"

"I forget."

"You forget. What, exactly do you forget?"

"That you, you're, you know."

"Oh, my God, you are brain dead, swear to—_what_ do you forget?"

"Well, it's just that you're…you know."

"McGarrett, you holding your hand parallel to the ground at roughly the same place the top of my head comes to on your stupid giraffe body had better be something other than you trying to tell me in your own emotionally stunted way that you do these things for me because I'm _short_ and you therefore forget I'm a _man_."

"Uh…"

"Okay, tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to do it to _you_ for a week and see how _you_ like it. And then, we'll see if you ever do it to me again and so help me, if you so much as cut an _eye_ at me the wrong way, buster, I _will_ act like a girl and show you the best way for a _girl_ to stop a _guy_ in his tracks courtesy of my knee up between your legs!"

* * *

><p>"Cuz?"<p>

"Mm?"

"Why is Danny constantly holding doors for Steve? Pouring him coffee? Bringing him breakfast? Pulling out his chair for him?"

"Kono, I have no idea, and no desire to know. I can't begin to understand the two of them and don't suggest you try to either."

* * *

><p>"Danny."<p>

"What?"

"I think we should stop this little game of yours."

"No way, you've got three days of this torture left. I will continue to hold the doors for you, pull out your chair, guide you with my hand at the small of your back-"

"No. We need to stop."

"Why? Had enough?"

"Because I just got a message from the governor asking me if we were going to be the first to take on the civil union bill he just passed."

…

"Danny?"

…

"Danny?"

* * *

><p>"Chin?"<p>

"Yeah, Kono?"

"Why is Danny lying unconscious on the floor of Steve's office?"


	35. Ways 69 and 70

**Way 69  
>Ask her if you offend her sexually in any way.<strong>

"_Oh_magod."

"You can say that again."

"I…Danny, I'm so sorry, I _completely_ forgot you were staying over last night."

"Yeah, we, uh…surmised as much."

"Wait…_we_?"

"Let me guess. You forgot your sister was arriving late last night, too."

"_Oh_magod."

"You said that already."

"I am…oh, God."

"Steven, you need to expand your vocabulary a bit."

"Danny, I'm so sorry, I know Cat and I weren't very, um…"

"Quiet? No. No, you weren't. Good morning, Mary Ann."

"Morning."

"Hey, what's with the shit-eating grins you two are wearing?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, big brother. Outta the way, I need coffee. Thank you, Danny."

"Did you…Daniel."

"Mm?"

"Did you just _leer_ at my _sister_?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Danny, where are you…Mary, what's going on?"

"Nothing, Steve."

"No, not nothing, _some_thing. Now spill."

"Or what, you'll use your ninja SEAL interrogation tactics on me? Not going to work."

"Ninja SE—_no_! Just…what is with that _look_? I'm sorry about me and Cat, okay? I completely forgot you and Danny were going to be here, and I-"

"Look, spare yourself the agony of apologizing. And, Steve?"

"What?"

"You might want to take notes from Danny."

"About _what_?"

"How to be so quiet when you're having sex that nobody else knows you are."

"How to be…what the…wait, Mary…where are you going? What the _hell_?"

"Steve?"

"Cat, I…they…_oh_magod."

"How come Danny and Mary Ann are laughing their asses off in the next room?"

* * *

><p><strong>Way 70<br>Ask if she's jealous of anyone.**

"_What're you, jealous?"_

Well, yeah. Danny was. _Is_. And, you know, when he hits the beach behind McGarrett's house to find Steve royally effed up and having just had to kill Nick Taylor, well…he feels his antics from earlier are quite justified indeed, _thankyouverymuch_.

But, you know, it bothers him that it was _so_ damn obvious. 'Smooth Dog' was a moniker Danny hadn't yet decided whether Steve'd actually _earned_ or if it'd been one of those polar-opposite-type of things. Calling that bald guy with the Harlem Globetrotters Curly, for example.

Danny was now _painfully_ aware that 'Smooth Dog' would _never_ apply to his own _modus operandi_.

He sighed.

And resolved to stop making it so obvious because, you know, partners, right? Partners. He'd once had a wife and kid, and his partners had never gotten jealous of him wanting to spend time with them instead of going out to Sal's Bar…oh, wait a minute.

Danny _had_ gone out to Sal's with the guys after shift more often than not.

Well, none of his partners had ever been jealous of Danny wanting to spend time with _Grace_, of course, and Danny had made _sure_ to spend lots of time with Grace because she was his _world_, other than his job, and he'd taken her _everywhere_ with him, like…well, like over to Jimmy's place when Jimmy was his…partner. And, you know, to the barbecues at the houses of…fellow cops. And over for play dates with Sammy Jacobs when his dad Jack had been Danny's…partner. And to the annual NPD picnic…surrounded by cops and their families, and…

Danny was beginning to see a pattern here.

He'd even taken Grace to the football game. Here. Where the whole of Five-0 had gathered.

_Oh, boy._

Danny realized he _was_ married to his job, just like Rachel had always accused him of being.

_Well, shit._

"Hey, what's eating you?"

Danny whipped his head around so fast he nearly concussed himself, relaxing when he saw Steve headed his way with a couple beers from his office fridge.

"I just realized that I'm married to my job," Danny announced, taking the offered beer and downing a few swallows.

"What's your point?"

Danny grinned. "That's why I like you, McGarrett. Live and let live, that's your motto."

Steve quirked an eyebrow at him, to go with the quirking of the same side of his mouth, and then clinked their longnecks together. "I got your back, Danno."

_Yeah_, Danny thought, eyeing Steve as he let half the bottle of beer slide down his throat, _and I got yours_.

And, you know, after the Nick fiasco, Danny was goddamned if he was going to let anyone else from Steve's past, present or future fuck him over like Nick had.

Because Steve was _his_ partner.

And Danny? Yeah, had a jealous streak.

He was also admitting that he was married to his job.

When you came right down to it, he guessed that sort of meant he was married to Steve. Which explained the jealous streak, he supposed.

And he was okay with that, at least, in theory. Just so long as they never got to the point where they tried to figure out which of them was the girl…


	36. Ways 71 and 72

**Way 71  
>See if she's uncomfortable about the way money is spent.<strong>

"Steven? How much did that cost?"

"Doesn't matter, Danny. Look how happy she is."

That was pretty much how those types of conversations always went.

"Steve, you shouldn't have paid for that."

"Why not? It's not like I've got anyone else to spend money on."

And really, it was very difficult to give his partner shit when the things his partner was doing and paying for, were for Grace.

"Oh, my God, you did _not_ buy her that."

"Sure did. Look at that smile."

But the thing for Danny wasn't that he minded Steve wanting to do things that made Grace happy. Hell, that was all Danny himself was _about_, really.

"You know, a stuffed toy would've been just fine."

"Yeah, but stuffed animals can't lick her face the way that puppy's doing."

It was more that Danny just didn't want Grace to be so frickin' spoiled. Step-Stan bought her affections right, left and center, as far as Danny was concerned. Much like he'd bought the affections of Danny's ex-wife, but whatever.

"My daughter did not need to eat at Chef Mavro, Steve. Jack in the Box would've sufficed."

"Her dress was too nice for fast food, Danny."

But when Danny tried explaining this to Steve, Steve explained right back that he wasn't at _all_ trying to buy Grace's affections. No. He was simply putting his money to better use than sitting and collecting interest in the bank, by giving Grace what she _deserved_.

"No, _I_ will help her buy her first car, and it will _not_ be a Camaro!"

"How about you give her this one, and we'll just get a new one for Five-0?"

And while Danny definitely couldn't tell Steve (or anyone else, for that matter) that Grace didn't deserve the absolute best, because of _course_ she did, as the perfect child that she was, he also felt Steve was spoiling his little girl way too much. Not that this had stopped the practice as the years went by, of course.

"I don't…Steve, I…how can I ever thank you? Stan and Rachel and I together couldn't have paid for that operation alone…look at her. She can _walk_, even after what that drunk driver did to her. I can't…my _God_, my baby can _walk_ again…"

"She's worth every penny of it and more, Danno. She's your daughter, after all."

Danny never protested Steve's Grace Spending Habits again.

* * *

><p><strong>Way 72<br>Take her on dates now and then.**

"Steve, I understand you didn't get a whole lot of exposure to normal, average, everyday friendships during your Navy years, so I've been cutting you some slack. But I really need to understand something here."

"That being?"

"Why are you constantly taking me on dates?"

"Taking you on—I don't take you on _dates_!"

"The hike with the dead guy down the cliff."

"That wasn't a—"

"The pick-up on Valentine's Day in that gas-guzzling car that still doesn't work right."

"I was just—!"

"Watching a movie with me in my extremely transient living quarters."

"I just came over to—"

"The face-to-face getting-to-know-you time in the locked trunk of a Nissan."

"We'd been kidnapped by—"

"And last, but not least, the football game."

"The whole _team_ went to that!"

"Steven."

"Danny, those weren't…why would you…what the hell, man? It's just…buddy stuff."

"Buddy stuff."

"Yeah. You know. Stuff guys do together. That friends do together. They're not _dates_!"

"Well, considering the fact that your idea of a date with your lovely Navy Lieutenant consists of barbecuing on the beach…said barbecue never actually _grilling_ anything, of course…I suppose you may have a point. However, _I_ need to point out to _you_ that these little get-togethers _may_ have the appearance outside of the little circle who…dare I say it…understands how your fish-brain works…of something altogether different than 'buddy stuff.'"

"Do…_what_ now?"

"All I'm saying, is that you may want to tone down the actual frequency of our little get-togethers…over ninety percent of which I didn't actually name, by the way…or people outside of _you_ might start getting the wrong idea."

"The wrong…huh?"

"I'm just sayin'."

"I have _no idea_ what you're saying, Danny. As usual."

"No skin off _my_ nose. Everyone already thinks we're married anyway, so…you know. I just thought I'd warn you, is all. Rumors being what they are."

"Rumors. Right. Uh…so…what are you doing Saturday night?"

"Game?"

"No. Governor's Ball. What's with the melodramatic sigh?"

"You haven't listened to a word I've said, have you…?"


	37. Ways 73 and 74

**Way 73  
>Hold her hand in public.<strong>

Steve saw it coming the second before it actually did.

He turned to find his partner; Danny was five whole steps away.

He could get to him in time, though.

He knew he could.

He moved.

Fast.

Grabbed Danny's hand tight.

Pulled; yanked, really.

Half-dragged the shorter man across the parking lot.

Barely reached the Camaro as the hail of bullets rained down on it and them.

Danny hit in the Kevlar.

Steve hit in the calf.

Steve went down. Danny went down on top of him.

Steve struggled to roll, to get Danny under his body, to cover him, protect him.

Have his back.

Danny fought him.

Danny always fights him, but this?

This was non-negotiable.

So Steve threatened to hit him.

Danny glared, opened the passenger door of the car, manhandled Steve in.

Managed to climb _over_ him across to the driver's side.

Bullets rained down.

Danny got them out of there.

"Next time you wanna hold my hand, Steve, let's do it without bullets!"

Danno was ranting.

So Steve was shot, but happy.

He never did quite let go of Danny's hand.

* * *

><p><strong>Way 74<br>Put your arm around her in front of friends.**

"Don't _worry_, Danno. I have a surefire way to get you out of there if need be."

Well, shame on Danny for not making sure he knows precisely what that 'surefire way' consists of. Because, you know, his idiocy in trusting without clarifying has resulted in this, this right here.

This bar. This case. This bit of undercover. This whole thing where Danny is supposed to be a drunk, down-on-his-luck broke Mainlander (well, he doesn't have to reach _that_ far for some of it) who is stuck in Honolulu without a penny to his name and nowhere to stay.

Enter Suspect #1 who, of course, loves to prey on tourists that stupidly burn every penny at any one of a number of local tourist traps, casinos included. He finds 'em, kidnaps 'em, and sells 'em.

Usually women, but there've been some men too, and Danny fits the rough sketch of those victims who've been male. Of course he does.

He sighs.

Because yeah, this bar, this case, this bit of undercover, and just when Danny is about to be pumped full of some sort of clear liquid he's pretty sure he wouldn't have been waking up from anytime soon, in comes Mr. White Knight.

No white horse in sight but hey, do the whites of his eyes count?

And anyway, armed-to-the-teeth, badge-flashing, subtle-is-not-in-a-SEAL'S-vocabulary Steve, there he is, sidling up to Danny and…get this…putting his _arm_ around him, cooing in his ear about how he's _ever_ so glad he found his 'little man' (yeah, Danny will punch him _hard_ for that as soon as they're out of the suspect's line of sight), and how his 'baby' shouldn't worry so much when he blows his wad on the horses and Danny arches an eyebrow, because he just _knows_ Steve uses the phrase 'blows his wad' on purpose, wonders if the use of 'horses' is also on purpose, and vows to punch Steve a second time just for that.

Danny sighs again, decides to play it to the hilt, so he wraps his arms around Steve, snuggles in way closer than he's ever wanted to be to Mr. Backup-Is-For-Pussies, and exaggeratedly drawls, "I love you _so much_, sugar."

Ah. Glare of Death for that one.

Serves the overgrown Boy Scout right, is Danny's not-so-humble opinion.

So out they go, and while Danny fully intends to throw a punch as soon as they're in the parking lot, what he's _not_ prepared for is Steve to continue holding him plastered up against his tree-trunk torso all the way down the street.

Just as he's about to ask what the hell his partner thinks he's doing with the Attack of the Cuddles scene after hitting four blocks of distance between them and Suspect #1, a car pulls up alongside them, and it's just Danny's luck to hear the amused tones of one Kono Kalakaua as she says:

"You guys wanna be alone?"

At which point Danny manages to unlock himself from Tall, Dark and Fucked-In-The-Head, swings and clocks him square on the jaw, takes one on his own jaw for his effort, and then grins like all is right with the world.

Steve's matching grin sets Kono off on a tangent Danny really isn't prepared for, but it's as they're climbing into her little red car and she says, "So, was that foreplay?" that Danny just keeps going right out the other side of the back seat, slams the door behinds him, and keeps walking down the block.

"Aw, come on, Danny, I knew if I let go of you, you'd hit me."

"And you hit me back. We're good."

"So get in the car."

"_Not_ with that evil woman driving!"

"I'm not evil!"

"You_ are_, Kalakaua. You _so_ are."

"Danny, get in."

"No. I'd rather be cuddled by Super SEAL again than get in that car with you!"

And so that's how now, one hour later, the two leaders of the Governor of Hawaii's very special Five-0 task force are walking slowly towards the McGarrett house.

Because while it might be okay for the boys to mess around with each other and solve it all with a good fist or two, it is _not_ okay in one Lady Task Force Member's opinion to be called evil by the _haole_ and subsequently grinned at for it by The Boss. And really, Danny should know better than to give Kono openings like he had.

So if anyone asks how come Steve's right wrist is handcuffed to Danny's right wrist…resulting in the physical necessity for Steve's right arm to be around Danny's shoulder, well…neither man is really ready to admit it's because they let a woman do it to 'em, never mind that they both also outrank her.

Danny really doesn't think the Jersey Slip's gonna help here. Maybe Kamekona won't mind a phone call at two a.m…


	38. Ways 75 and 76

**Way 75  
>Tell her you love her often.<strong>

Contrary to what some might believe, Danny Williams actually didn't raise his voice that often.

So when he did, it meant something.

And if you were to be a fly on the wall of the partnership between him and one Steve McGarrett, you might start to see patterns in the volume and tone of Danny's voice, which more often than not, spoke to Danny's state of mind than his words themselves.

Fear.

Fear was one reason Danny raised his voice.

Like the first time he saw Steve do something a little more…severe…with regards to a suspect, in that he hung the guy off the side of a roof. Danny was afraid – of Steve, a little, maybe, but moreso that Steve would actually kill the guy. Not on purpose, maybe, but still.

Or like the first time Danny had seen Steve since he'd gotten stabbed and escaped from custody. Danny was _way_ loud, and really didn't need Max to point that out to everyone, but it was because he'd been scared shitless about Steve, Steve's health, Steve's status as a fugitive from the law. Just Steve.

Frustration.

Frustration was another reason Danny raised his voice.

After all, how many times did he have to tell Steve they needed to wait for backup? Which would be the last time, that would result in one of them not coming home that night?

Or how many times did he have to remind Steve that they _had_ to follow procedure if they wanted charges to stick? If they actually wanted the bad guys to stay off the streets once Five-0 caught them? It was hell to do as much work as they did, only to see a murderer, a drug dealer, a rapist, an arms dealer, a money launderer, a smuggler, a kidnapper…walk free.

Love.

Love was probably the biggest reason Danny raised his voice.

Sometimes he yelled at Steve because he was afraid. For Steve, or for himself, given whatever Steve's antics were at the time.

Sometimes he yelled at Steve because he was thoroughly frustrated with his partner's unwillingness to take it down a couple notches and just wait, even a few minutes.

But sometimes Danny yelled at Steve because while he did have the whole of Five-0 as his _ohana_, it wasn't any secret that Steve McGarrett was the primary reason Danny no longer felt alone in Hawaii. That Steve McGarrett was the primary reason Danny was trying in his own bass ackwards way to fit in a little better with the island's people, though there were terrible hiccups to that process along the way, à la the _heiau_.

That Steve McGarrett was the primary reason Danny had been able to move, however tentatively, past the awful fuckup with Rachel. To the point where he was actually _dating_ again, and allowing himself to try and be open to someone other than the ex-wife he never really had quite gotten over.

Steve was Steve. He'd always be Steve, no matter how much Danny ranted and raved at him for this, that or the other thing. But that was the whole point, really. If Steve hadn't been the way he was, both on his own and in the push-you/pull-me thing he had going on with Danny, the Jersey transplant may never have survived this new life of his in Hawaii.

Sure, he would've been living and breathing, but emotionally, there would only have been Grace. And truly, no man can survive on only a few hours a week of love.

So the next time you hear Danny raise his voice at Steve a little louder than is strictly necessary, consider that he may simply be afraid. He may simply be frustrated. But it may just be the way he expresses affection to a former Navy SEAL who became an anchor all his own, in the topsy-turvy ocean of Danny's life.

* * *

><p><strong>Way 76<br>Remember anniversaries, birthdays, and other special occasions.**

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think maybe your Lieutenant was on her way over. Should I go?"

"No. Cat's still in the Baltic."

"Oh. So…the table set for two, the bottle of wine, the heavenly smells from the kitchen…you have someone coming over?"

"Sure do."

"Are you going to tell me who?"

"You already know who."

"I do."

"Yep."

"Why are you being so cryptic?"

"Danny, what's today?"

"Thursday."

"Date."

"Uh…twentieth of September. So what?"

"So what? You don't know the significance of that date?"

"It's less than a month after our birthdays?"

"Danny…"

"What? September twentieth, huh? I'm…really at a loss here, partner. What's with that smile?"

"It's the day we met two years ago."

"Oh. Really? You can't remember to read a suspect his Miranda rights before you start kicking the shit out of him, but you remember the day we met?"

"Some things you never forget. Come on. Dinner is served."

"Wow. Just…thanks, man."

"Happy Anniversary, Danny."


	39. Ways 77 and 78

**Way 77  
>Learn to enjoy shopping.<strong>

And he'd thought Rachel was bad.

Oh. My. God.

Never again.

Never again would Danny Williams go clothes shopping with Steve McGarrett.

Given the guy's daily attire, Danny figured when Steve said he needed to stop by Wal-Mart to replace some of the pants and shirts that'd been rendered unwearable by things like…oh…you know…bullet holes, blood, knife slices, that sort of thing, that he'd be getting off easy. Steve knows his pants size, he's got a dozen pairs of those blasted cargo pants, just go in and grab, right? Snag a package of three-to-a-pack tee shirts, grab a couple cheap polos from the $5 display and have done with it.

Right?

Wrong. Oh, _so_ wrong.

Steve. Had to try _everything_ on, and this right here, this "Danny, whaddya think?" business at the dressing rooms?

Oh. My. God.

Never again.

"You look like you always look," was all Danny could think of to say. Steve had honest-to-God put on a pout to rival Gracie's, and Danny had followed that up with, "What?"

"They're drab green. I don't have drab green. I was hoping to change up a bit," Steve told him with a frown.

"Then I would suggest you start by _not_ choosing cargo pants and polos, Steven."

The pout again.

Oh, dear _God_.

Was Steve PMS-ing? What the hell?

"What about these?"

Black. Too many pockets. Cargo pants.

What the ever-loving—

"Fuck?" Danny asked, completing the thought out loud.

One entire hour later, out of Wal-Mart they walked, both laden with bags full of…clothes.

Cargo pants.

Tee shirts.

Polos.

And really, Danny did _not_ think he needed to be privy to what type of underwear his partner wore.

Just…

One of the bags had stuff for Danny in it because Steve, well, he was a generous guy, and Danny just couldn't say no, in spite of the fact that what Steve had bought him…bought _both_ of them…in the spirit of "Live a little, Danno!" which Danny would never live down, because of course Steve would be wanting to check every day to see if Danny was actually _wearing_ them…was Wal-Mart issue silk boxers.

Yup.

Silk boxers.

In blue.

Danny sometimes wondered about Steve…

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: Way 78 decided to reference something in Way 77 because Steve and Danny are a pain in my ass.<em>

**Way 78  
>Teach her to hunt and fish or whatever you enjoy doing.<strong>

"Okay, I admit it. Maybe spear fishing just isn't for you, Danno."

"It took a near-drowning, a near-goring and an overall Near Death Experience for you to figure that out, huh?"

"Well, at least I know you can swim."

"I _told_ you I could swim. Just like I _told_ you I could _not_ spear fish. But do you _ever_ listen to me? No. So here we are with more bandages between the two of us than a Scooby Doo mummy."

"Scooby Doo?"

"God, you were deprived as a child, weren't you."

"Danny, I'm sorry, okay? I just…it's something I used to do with my dad, and Chin and I do it, and I wanted to…you know."

"I know. But between that and hiking to the petroglyphs, Steve, I think maybe next time you want to share something with me, it needs to not have the potential for death, dismemberment or any other form of bodily harm."

"What would you suggest?"

"Do you never do _anything_ that might not result in bodily harm?"

"Yeah. But you're the wrong sex."

"You. Are a sick puppy, McGarrett."

"You asked."

"Dinner, maybe?"

"Stove. Fire."

"Right. Okay, then, watching the game on the tube."

"That might work. Assuming no invaders break in or shoot the house up while we're sitting on the couch."

"There is something seriously wrong with you."

"Wait, I know. How about a nice drive to the North Shore?"

"The way _you_ drive? My luck, you'd find some long-sought suspect in the car in front of us and we'd be over a cliff before I knew it."

"You're a very negative person, Danno."

"And you're a very dangerous one. Movie?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"Whatever's playing at the theater."

"You're on."

* * *

><p>"I am never taking you anywhere. Ever again. <em>Ever<em>."

"Danny, how is it my fault that the five top assassins for the Yakuza were sitting right in front of us to watch _Mission: Impossible_?"

"Mission Impossible. That's you. You are my Mission Impossible. Stop grinning like a loon."

"Come on, Danny, let's go home. I'll drive."

"I'm going to die. You are going to kill me. I know this in my heart."

"At least you'll be wearing nice boxers."


	40. Ways 79 and 80

**Way 79  
>Give her a special gift from time to time.<strong>**  
><strong>

There was something to be said for gag gifts.

Each and every year since they'd met, Danny had always given Steve some sort of gag gift. Of course, Steve and Cat had thoroughly enjoyed such forays into the odd as edible underwear and a certain type of gel that did…things…wherever it was rubbed into.

And Danny had thoroughly enjoyed whatever faces Steve made when he unwrapped the gift, gleefully naming and categorizing each one and teasing Steve about it for weeks.

There was the Potty Putter. Steve didn't even golf for real. Danny had called that reaction Steve's Navy-SEALs-Don't-Take-That-Long-In-The-John Face.

The Crime Scene scarf. Who needed a scarf of any kind in Hawaii? Still, it was funny. Steve had that one hanging on the back of his bedroom door. And every time Danny saw it, he reminded Steve of his My-Body-Is-_Not_-A-Crime-Scene Face.

The Instant Underwear had been awesome, dropping the round ball into a glass of water only to get briefs you could actually wear. He'd told Danny that would've been handy in the SEALs. Danny had rolled his eyes and named that face My-Brain-Is-So-Screwed-Up.

Toilet paper that wouldn't tear, resulting in Constipation Face #5, and roaring laughter from Danny at the irony. A pencil sharpener in the shape of a nose, where the pencil went up the nostrils. Accompanied by Ewwww Face. A computer mouse that gave an electric shock every time you touched it, and its companion, SEALs-Don't-Say-Ouch Face. A hair brush that looked like a switchblade. Steve _still_ carried that one around in his pocket, and Danny said nobody should ever have Full-Of-Glee Face on when they got something that appeared to be a deadly weapon.

No, life was never dull with Danny as your partner, and Steve looked forward to each and every birthday, just to see what the guy would come up with next, and what name he'd give to the face Steve gave him in return.

For his part, Steve always got Danny the exact same thing, year after year after year: a full weekend at the best hotel in the very best suite, for him and Grace. It kept him from having to try and be as inventive as Danny. And he knew that it was the one thing Danny would always love, never give him shit for and enjoy to the hilt. Danny always responded with what Steve had come to call Grateful Face. Hey, he could name faces, too.

This year was different. Different because Grace was gone. Only this time, Danny had no intention of following.

She was off to Oxford University, and Rachel, Stan and their son remained in Hawaii just like Danny did. Grace was starting the next chapter of her life now, and would be home as often as she could. Until then, Danny had Skype video phone calls with her every few days. Steve always knew when his partner had spoken to his not-so-little girl, because the next morning he'd be shining brighter than the sun when he walked into the office.

But with Danny's birthday right around the corner, Steve was thoroughly stumped. He supposed he could get him a weekend at the hotel again, but after years of hanging out there with Grace right up through her last August at home, it might actually make Danny sad rather than happy. Because he'd be…alone.

Alone.

That's when Steve got an idea. He didn't know if he'd be able to pull it off, but what the hell. It was worth a try.

* * *

><p>"You do realize Grace isn't here," Danny said, making what Steve identified as a confused face, at the exact same voucher he'd gotten every year on that date.<p>

"Yep."

"So who exactly am I supposed to take on a weekend at the Hilton…" Danny's voice trailed off as Steve hefted his duffel bag over his shoulder and held out his hand for Danny's keys. "Where are you going?"

Steve grinned, snagged the voucher from Danny's hand and waved it in the air.

"Oh, my _God_, I'm spending the weekend with _you_?"

"Well, it's either that or alone."

This was it. This was the moment that would tell Steve whether this had been the best idea he'd ever had, or a monumental mistake. If he'd read his partner right, Danny would accept, and _then_ he'd get the _real_ gift.

"Steven, are you putting moves on me?"

"Danny. If I wanted to put moves on you, I would've done it before we both hit our mid-forties."

"Okay. Because I'm not that kind of girl."

"Girl?"

"I'm just sayin'."

Steve stifled a snort. "Okay, Danno. I promise, I won't make any moves on you until after I've properly fed and watered you at the Hilton's restaurant, where," he checked his watch, "we have reservations in thirty minutes, so get a move-on!"

Danny narrowed his eyes. "Is this your idea of a gag gift?"

Steve was growing exasperated. "Look, if you don't want the voucher, or if you'd rather spend the weekend alone, then here, just go, okay?" He held the voucher out to Danny.

His partner eyed him for a moment, and Steve wondered what was running through the brain he never had quite managed to figure out. Then Danny smiled. A real, genuine smile. "Nah. Being alone is overrated. I get enough of that going home every night. Come on. Wine and dine me, McGarrett, and you may just get lucky."

Steve laughed all the way out the door. But it was more because of who he knew was waiting in that hotel suite, than because of what Danny had said.

He would never be the type to buy gag gifts; it just wasn't who he was. But bringing Grace all the way back from Oxford for the weekend, he figured, would be a gift Danny would never forget.

He couldn't wait to see the look on Danny's face. It was one he was certain he'd be able to put a name to.

* * *

><p><strong>Way 80<br>Share the responsibilities around the house.**

Steve had barbecued the steaks.

Danny had made the salad.

Steve had poured the drinks.

Danny had loaded the dishwasher.

Steve had lit the tiki torches.

Danny had scrubbed the grill clean.

Steve had pulled the beach chairs down close to the water.

Danny had stopped, rubbed a hand down his face, and considered the fact that he seemed to be doing all the hard stuff.

Confirmed when Steve had said to him, "You'd make a really good wife."

Danny's eyes had narrowed. "Well, you'd make an awesome husband, given how little you do."

Steve's face had lit up. Danny had scowled.

"Were you always this domestic or is that what marriage does to you?" Steve had asked. He'd seemed genuinely curious, so Danny hadn't gotten mad.

"When you grow up in a house with an overworked Mom and Dad, five kids and two dogs, you learn a thing or two about cleaning up after yourself and everyone else," he'd explained.

Steve had shrugged. "When you're in the Navy, you learn to never make a mess to begin with, so that you can split at a moment's notice without having to clean up."

"And yet," Danny had said with a gesture indicating their surroundings, "you do a very good job of making lots of messes here."

"It's my house."

"But you don't clean it up."

"That's because I know _you_ will."

"I am not your wife, McGarrett."

"Then stop cleaning up after me."

"I can't leave a mess."

"You are OCD."

"I am _not_ obsessive-compulsive!"

"Then put the broom down."

"But—"

"Step away from the broom."

"But there's sand on the dining room—"

"You are _so_ my wife."

"Get out of my way so I can sweep it up."

Steve had immediately started whistling the Wedding March song.

Danny had thwacked him in the ass with the business end of the broom.

Steve had laughed, grabbed his drink and gone out to sit on a beach chair.

Danny had stood in the doorway for a moment, broom still in hand, wondering when the hell he'd become Steve McGarrett's wife.

Well, he'd supposed, as he'd begun sweeping the sand into a little pile for the dustpan, there could be worse things.

As soon as he'd figured out _what_, precisely, he'd promised to let you know.


	41. Ways 81 and 82

_Author's Note: Way 81 contains references to events that occurred in Season 2 episode 8 "Lapa'au'."_

**Way 81  
>Don't belittle her feminine characteristics.<strong>

Danny was…not quite like anyone Steve had ever encountered.

Sure, he'd known guys who were…how'd Danny put it?...vertically challenged. Height didn't really make much difference to him whether guy or girl.

But Danny, he just…well, he sort of overcompensated for the height thing, and that led to all sorts of other things Steve had never encountered before.

Like the hands. Yeah, there were always the jokes about Italians and their penchant for talking with their hands, but Danny, he had it down to, like, its own _language_. His hands often said more than his words. And when you were talking about Danny, you were talking about a metric _fuck_ton of words.

That was another thing: all the talking. There were times Danny was quiet, sure there were. But more often than not, he had to say _some_thing about _every_thing, even when not altogether appropriate.

And he said _Steve_ had mammal-to-mammal interaction difficulties.

Steve had never quite been able to put his finger on why some of Danny's ways felt so familiar, and yet so different. Never, that was, until the moment he'd seen him get teary-eyed over a movie.

Even when Grace's life had been threatened, he hadn't seen Danny shed a tear. Didn't mean he _hadn't_, just not in Steve's vicinity.

Even when they'd tried talking about what happened with Rachel and the baby she was carrying in Max's goofy little car, Danny's eyes – while saying much – hadn't actually cried.

Even when Danny's relief over finding Steve in North Korea had been palpably flowing off him in waves, he hadn't done more than crack a joke about getting married after telling Steve to shut up while he was untying him.

But this movie, this disgusting moment where a baby whatever was born to a male whatever-the-hell-was-going-on…Steve was pretty sure if he hadn't said anything, he would've seen a tear roll down Danny's cheek.

And _that_ was when he'd known exactly what it was about Danny that made him want to hug him just as much as it made him want to punch him sometimes. Danny was sort of…well, he had…kind of…well. He was kind of like a…_woman_…in some ways.

And Steve knew he'd better forever keep _that_ thought to himself if he valued his life.

But the next time Danny yammered on and on and on about Grace's latest feat of childhood; the next time Danny's hands touched him maybe one or two times too often in the midst of explaining precisely why Steve was out of his mind; the next time Steve invited Danny over after a grueling five-day case and popped in _Enemy Mine _on purpose just to see if he could get his partner to shed a tear? Well, Steve just went with his gut, because Danny didn't seem to mind being allowed to be himself.

And the more Steve allowed the sometimes unexpected behavior, the more 'himself' Danny was becoming.

There was something strangely…endearing about the guy. Something he couldn't quite name but couldn't quite ignore. He wondered, as Danny fell sideways on the couch, dead asleep, his head landing squarely on Steve's thigh, if continuing to allow Danny to become more Danny as time passed meant one day he'd wake up and find Danny had actually turned into a girl.

That was when Steve McGarrett decided he needed some sleep, because thoughts like that meant he was _way_ overtired, so he leaned his head back and was out like a light. And when he woke up to find that he had somehow wound up stretched out behind his partner on the couch, and finally managed to get the hell off it without waking the guy, he vowed would never _ever_ mention to Danny that he'd been the little spoon…

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: So Steve and Danny are at it again. They insisted Way 82 had to be a follow-up to Way 81. *sigh* I lost control over these damn things eons ago thanks to those two, didn't I (hurls invectives at them).<em>

**Way 82  
>Let her express herself freely, without fear of being called stupid or illogical.<strong>

So luckily, Steve had awakened first, extracted himself from the couch, and gone about his middle-of-the-night-insomniac's business. Things like…oh, you know…cleaning a gun or five, checking, double-checking and triple-checking all the window and door locks, walking the perimeter of the house, putting in a load of laundry (damn, it was hard to get blood out of cargo pants).

About three hours later, just when he was feeling ready to maybe catch another wink or two before the inevitable dawn, he heard noises from the living room and the unmistakable sounds of the television going on.

He rolled his eyes. Not _again_.

Steve walked into the living room and his eyebrows went up. Danny wasn't watching some QVC-type channel. He was watching _Enemy Mine_. He was lying in pretty much the same position Steve had left him in, only this time with a blanket over top of him and a pillow under his head.

"At four in the morning, Danny?" Steve asked.

Danny's eyes opened and bored into him from across the room. "Well, I was sleeping comfortably and then I wasn't, and then I could hear you being a maniac in the middle of the night, and this, I don't know, I thought maybe it'd lull me back to sleep."

"How can a movie like this lull you at _all_?"

Danny yawned. "Sometimes it's not about the thing itself. Sometimes it's about who else has been involved with the thing in question."

Steve decided Danny was either sleepily incoherent or purposely trying to misdirect him with that whole throwing words together thing again. Time to parse out the words and try to unravel them.

Sometimes it's not about the thing itself. Okay, well, in this case, Danny had to be talking about the movie, right? Yes, the movie, so that was the first sentence. Now the second.

Sometimes it's about who else has been involved with the thing in question, was what he'd said. All right, so when you're talking about a movie, what do you do with that as a 'thing'? Well, you watch it, of course. So sometimes it's about who else has…what…watched the movie—

Oh.

Steve came out of his tired yet thoughtful haze and zeroed in on Danny's face. "Really?" he asked, because this wasn't something he'd anticipated.

"Really," Danny yawned again. "Now unless you're willing to become my pillow and blanket again, shut up and let me bask in my movie."

Steve wasn't sure whether to laugh, tease or turn around and run.

He chose Option Four without really meaning to, and found himself back on the couch, sitting so that his leg was Danny's pillow. Steve was nearly asleep within seconds.

Which almost went out the window altogether when the TV went off and Danny quietly grumbled, "You tell anyone I was the little spoon and I'll shoot you myself."

And here Steve thought his partner had been asleep the whole time. "Deal," he said. "Now go to sleep."

And Danny did.

Nope, Steve wouldn't mention anything about any of this to anyone. He resolved, however, to ensure that every time he bought Danny lunch or served him dinner or stirred the sugar into his coffee, he was going to use an awful lot of spoons to do it with…


	42. Ways 83 and 84

**Way 83  
>Carefully choose your words, especially when angry.<strong>

Steve never really lost his temper. Not _really_.

That was mostly because he was really good at compartmentalizing his feelings. On not showing them. You learned pretty quickly in the Navy that no matter how much a superior officer pissed you off, you did not show it. Period.

Now, sometimes in the throes of chasing down a suspect, if that suspect did something that endangered innocent lives, or anyone on his team, Steve had been known to act with rather extreme prejudice. That, however, was never really anger. It was simply retribution for the act in question.

And he was angry with Wo Fat. Of course he was. He had every right to be. But he channeled his anger effectively, putting all that energy into finding the bastard, into sorting out the mess that entwined his life with that asshole's.

So Steve never really lost his temper. And as such, he wasn't quite sure what to do when it finally happened after nearly two years back in Hawaii. Made worse by the fact that the one who'd made him so angry, was his partner.

It wasn't the fact that Danny had bitched at him for a few seconds before all hell broke loose about, once again, not waiting for backup.

It wasn't the fact that the Suspect Of The Week and his cronies had decided to open fire on them before they could reach adequate cover.

It wasn't even the fact that the person who'd tipped them off as to this location had very obviously set them up.

What made Steve lose his temper this time, was how Danny had thrown himself at Steve, knocking him down and saving his life. Well, it wasn't actually that particular sequence of events that had him so mad because hey, that's why you have a partner and yeah, Danny is the backup.

It was the fact that Danny had seen the bullet coming, and had put himself between Steve and that bullet, which would clearly not end well for Danny, without a second thought.

Most people would be grateful. Steve was _pissed_.

See, Danny had Grace.

And Danny also had Rachel, who still cared a lot about him.

Danny had a big family spread all over the mainland east coast who, by all accounts, loved him like nobody's business.

Danny also had a new relationship forming with Dr. Asano, who seemed to like him a whole lot, too, if those smiles she gave him were any indication.

Who'd Steve have?

A sister who, sure, loved him, but who'd get along just fine without him as she'd been doing since they'd both been shipped away after their mom's death.

And he had Cat, of course, but really, she was rarely physically in his life, and while he was pretty sure she loved him, though the words had never been spoken, she was a beautiful, smart Navy woman who'd be able to move on just fine if he was gone.

Both Steve and Danny had Chin and Kono, and Steve guessed they would be equally devastated no matter whether it was Steve or Danny who was lost.

But the scales tipped dramatically in Danny's favor as to who'd be missed the most. Who was needed the most. Who was _loved_ the most.

So Steve's top just blew when he realized what Danny had done, and why he'd done it, and he could no longer keep it inside, couldn't compartmentalize it this time, when Danny wheezed, "Good thing I saw that one coming, huh?" as he lay bleeding in Steve's arms.

Steve was pretty sure the tirade he let loose on his partner at the same time he tried fervently to keep him from dying on the spot, was a collection of the most colorful – and the most, period – words he'd ever let loose at once.

It even got Chin's and Kono's attention, if the fact that they stayed several feet back was any indication.

"This…is how…you thank a guy…for saving…your _life_?" Danny gasped incredulously as the ambulance pulled up, and after Steve had finally used up his annual supply of verbiage.

"Saving _mine_," Steve replied through gritted teeth, "is _not_ worth losing _yours_."

Danny had looked him in the eyes a long while after that, even though the light in his own eyes was fading; even though the paramedics were working on him; even though he was put on a stretcher and rushed into the back of the ambulance.

Not once had he let Steve's eyes go.

When they were finally on their way to the nearest Emergency Room, Danny started speaking through the oxygen mask he wore, forcing Steve to lean down and put his ear right against the plastic, to hear him.

"I don't want to live," Danny's muffled, raspy voice proclaimed, "in a world where you don't."

And then Steve was pushed back out of the way, and Danny's heart had to be restarted, and Steve within the space of two-and-a-half minutes had gained everything and then almost lost it all before he even understood what he had.

Maybe losing his marbles on Danny for saving his life, was more about Steve's deathly fear of losing _Danny_ than it was about being angry Danny had saved him. And Steve truly did believe down to his toes that Danny's life was more important than his when the chips were stacked and the cards counted.

But if he was that important to Danny, so much so that the man who far outweighed him in the 'how many people love me' category didn't mind almost getting himself killed for Steve, then maybe Steve needed to rethink things.

Steve had never been so embarrassed and yet so happy when, after pouring his heart out later to a hospitalized post-surgery partner he'd thought was still unconscious, Danny sleepily growled, "Duh, idiot" at him.

He'd take that as a major win.

* * *

><p><strong>Way 84<br>Don't criticize her in front of others.**

Danny didn't say a word.

Not. One. Word.

Scared Steve a little.

They went to Steve's place, where Danny dropped him off.

"See you in an hour?" Steve asked.

Danny made a head motion that Steve interpreted as an affirmative response, but still, Danny said nothing.

Even Chin, seated in the backseat of the Camaro, hadn't said anything. But, Steve reasoned, that wasn't altogether surprising. Chin didn't say much on a regular basis, but Danny?

Steve knew this was _not_ good.

He sighed.

He showered.

He put his torn-to-shreds clothing in a trash bag and threw that into one of the containers outside his garage.

And he waited. For a call. For a knock at the door. For anything.

He could've just gotten into his truck and driven back to headquarters, but Danny's head-nod had indicated he'd be back in an hour.

It'd been an hour and two minutes, and no Danny.

Steve frowned, grabbed his cell phone, and was about to dial Danny's number when he heard the telltale sounds of a very familiar car pulling into his driveway.

He went to the door.

A freshly-showered and attired Danny turned off the car.

He made to lock the door behind him.

Danny got out of the car, leaving a freshly-showered and attired Chin in the backseat.

Steve remembered he'd forgotten to set the alarm and opened the door back up.

Danny made it to him and physically shoved him into the living room.

Steve started to protest.

Danny held up a hand as he closed the door behind him.

"What the fuck, Danny?"

"If you ever put me, Kono or Chin in the kind of position you put us in out there today _ever_ again, I will transfer back to HPD so fast your thigh holsters will spin."

Steve's mouth dropped open.

He blinked.

"I didn't know the guy threw a grenade."

"No. But you rushed in even after all _three_ of us said we should wait, forcing all _three_ of us to follow you. We almost lost the entire _team_ today, and Kono's got a busted wrist as proof."

Steve felt suitably chagrined because, of course, he never quite thought of things in the same way other people did, and so while his own thoughts had been along the lines of wondering where the Samoan fucktard had gotten an Army issue grenade to begin with, and how Steve had missed the telltale _clink_ of a pin being pulled, Danny had obviously been stewing along a different mental path.

"You don't always have to follow me in, you know."

Danny got right up in his personal space so that his considerable body heat seemed to envelop Steve completely.

"You _will not_ do that again. We are your _team_. We go where _you_ go. Think about _that_ next time you take off on a suicide run, _partner_."

Danny turned and opened the door.

Steve wanted to protest, but couldn't form words.

Danny walked out and slammed the door behind him.

Steve suddenly got it.

Danny was waiting in the driver's seat, and Chin in the backseat, when Steve composed himself enough to set the alarm, walk out the door, close it and lock it behind him.

Steve slid into the passenger seat and buckled up. He looked back at Chin, then at Danny. "Let's go pay Kono a visit," he finally said.

Danny's head whipped around to look at him.

Chin said, "I figured you'd want to head back to HQ."

Steve turned away, fixing his eyes out the passenger window. "Kono's more important right now than the scum who ambushed us," he said, happy about how evenly his voice came out. "You _all_ are."

Danny and Chin exchanged a look, Chin's face full of surprise as he mouthed, 'what'd you say to him?'

Danny just got a small, secret smile on his face, put the car in Reverse, and stepped on the gas.

Steve was learning.


	43. Ways 85 and 86

**Way 85  
>Don't let her see you become excited about the physical features of another woman.<strong>

Steve now had an idea how Danny'd felt when Nick Taylor came to town. He was sure this ex-partner of Danny's was fine, probably not out to kill him because, you know, Steve pretty well had the corner on the people-he-trusted-wanting-to-do-him-in market.

But there was just no two ways around the fact that he felt jealous of Patrick O'Shea. The tiny little evil lizard brain inside him wanted to start cracking jokes about Lucky Charms being magically delicious, but his fear of the Wrath of Danno held that in check.

He shook the guy's hand. He acted polite. Well, that was more than he could say Danny had done for him where Nick was concerned. Danny's disgust with the guy showing up and showing such familiarity with Steve had been on display for all to see.

And highly amusing. Until he found out Nick was bad, of course. Until Nick tried to kill him in his own back yard, of course. Until Danny had run up to him after it was all over and Steve had let it slip that he'd picked Danny. As a _friend_. Big difference from just picking him as a partner.

Danny had laughed it off, as Danny did whenever talk tried to turn a little deeper than back-slapping males cared to go.

The lizard brain reared its ugly self again at dinner that night, which Danny had insisted Steve come to even though Steve would rather be anywhere but sitting across the table from a guy who touched Danny as often as Danny touched him. Steve used to think only _he_ was privy to those gestures of affection, but as the evening wore on and the men consumed more alcohol, it became pretty apparent Danny was just that way with everyone.

How depressing.

That night, after Danny dropped Steve off at his place and went back to his hotel suite with his ex-partner, Steve scowled his way through his bedtime ritual, not sure if he was pissed that O'Shea was in town, pissed that Danny hadn't warned him how familiar he was with the guy, or pissed at himself for acting like his boyfriend was cheating on him.

Because he wasn't his boyfriend, he was his _partner_.

And he'd once been O'Shea's.

Dammit.

He had just finished checking all the windows and doors, and setting the alarm, when he heard a knock. Wondering who the hell it could be at nearly one o'clock in the morning, Steve looked out the window and was surprised to see the Camaro in the driveway.

Why on Earth would Danny be here at this hour, and with his ex-partner in town, too?

Steve shut off the alarm, unlocked his door and opened it. "You knock now?" he asked.

"I knocked because I _chose_ to knock, dufus."

Chose. What an odd thing to say after all these thoughts Steve'd been having about choosing Danny. Who shoved his way past Steve. Steve closed the door behind him and turned to look at him. "Where's your partner?"

Oops. Steve should've said _ex_-partner. Or maybe just the man's last name.

There was this odd, small smile on Danny's face. "Standing right in front of me," he said.

Figured Danny would know exactly what Steve's lizard brain was thinking. It was actually a little scary how well the guy from Jersey could read the guy from Hawaii.

And so they each took a beer and settled out on the lanai.

Danny used nothing but his presence to make sure Steve really believed no other partner, ex or otherwise, would break up their duo.

Steve allowed Danny's presence to take just a bit of that jealousy away. Still, the little voice inside his head blared out that he would be damn glad when O'Shea went back to the armpit of America where he belonged.

Danny turned and looked at him, stifling a laugh.

"What?" Steve asked.

"I can hear you thinking from way over here."

Steve narrowed his eyes at him, but settled down. And really hoped this particular package from the mainland hadn't also come with the ability to read minds…

…though that sure would explain a lot.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: Way 86 is the crack-tithesis (crackfic antithesis) of Way 85, sort of loosely based on Steve's final thoughts from that one. Yes, I said crack. As in, unbelievable and insane. *smile*<em>

**Way 86  
>Be sensitive to other people.<strong>

He can't help that his eyes are so expressive.

When you can feel the emotions of every single human and animal around you as clearly and sometimes painfully as you can your own, something's gotta give.

It's why he'd liked the Navy so much. Mostly men, mostly guy emotions, mostly things he learns to block out or at least handle.

Naval Intelligence had seen him either solitary or sometimes leading a team. A focused team, who largely left their emotions at the door when it was mission time. Same with the SEALs. So yeah, it had always worked.

And then Dad's murder. And Steve's back in Hawaii. And the governor, and Chin, and Kono. Seeing Mamo again. Mary Ann. Hiro Noshimuri. Wo Fat. Hesse. Sang Min. Jenna. The new governor. Lori. Joe. Max.

Too many people.

Too many of his own emotions.

Too many of _their_ emotions.

He's had the ability his entire life, as long as he could remember. He's always known his dad was hiding something, even before the Champ box. He's always known the governor wasn't telling him everything, neither Jameson nor her successor. He's always known Chin's pain over Malia runs deep, until finally they not only patch things up but get married.

He's known Kono's trepidation and knew there was something she wasn't telling him when she was undercover for Fryer. He felt Mamo's joy over seeing him and Mary Ann again; his sorrow over the deaths of the McGarrett parents. Mary Ann, feisty, projecting every emotion under the sun almost at the same time.

The bad guys.

The good guys.

And then there's Danny. And there are just no words for how overwhelming that particular man's emotions are.

Thing is, Steve can't pinpoint reasons behind peoples' emotions. He can't actually read their minds. He knows if someone's happy, but not why. He knows someone mourning but doesn't know what or who died. He knows someone's hiding something, but hasn't a clue what. And he knows when someone loves or hates, but not who or why.

Danny. It's like Steve's under a constant barrage of surface-to-air missiles whenever Danny's anywhere near him. It never stops, it just never _stops_. Not that Danny can help it. And not that Steve really wants him to.

Thanks to Danny, he's felt a deep love that he never knew existed. It happens whenever Danny's around Grace.

Thanks to Danny, he's felt unending joy like he's also never known. That'd been when Danny had found him in the back of the truck in North Korea.

He's felt, most strangely of all, this weird combo emotion that isn't quite one thing or another, but sort of a mish-mosh of multiple things thrown all together, and the best he can figure is that it's about him somehow.

It's kind of like…love-frustration-fear-gratitude-happiness-sadness-fondness all rolled up into one tidal wave that washes over Steve the moment Danny gets eyes on him first thing in the morning, and is constantly there like a tide pool Steve's immersed in until at last the two part ways.

He doesn't dare ask Danny about it, because then he'll have to explain precisely how it is he knows Danny has this rather knotted and complicated unnamable emotion for him. Or worse, if it's not actually _for_ Steve, it'll prove far too embarrassing that he's assuming it is.

Then there's always the question of whenever he feels Danny's aroused by something or someone. He tries to ignore that one, but if Danny _knows_ Steve can feel it, holy _shit_, that's embarrassing for _both_ of them. Steve's pretty good at controlling his body's reactions to others' emotions after thirty-five years of it, after all.

Steve keeps his own secret, and realizes one night, two days after Danny's returned to Jersey with Grace to visit their family during Grace's spring break from school, that he feels achingly empty.

Hollow.

His cup's been dumped out.

He misses Danny, sure, and all his word-slinging and how he's slowly picking up on Steve's brand of crazy (Steve just loved hearing about Danny and the Grenade, a new Five-0 legend). He misses his energy, being caught up on Grace's latest achievements, hearing about the last date he had with Dr. Asano.

But most of all, he misses the mixed-up mess inside Danny.

Combined with his own, they make a pretty decent emotional soup, he decides.

Now all he has to do is wait six more days for the rest of the ingredients to come home. And hope he can always continue to keep his mask in place, so Danny never realizes Steve has this gift.

Because thanks to this vacation of Danny's, the one thing Steve now knows he could never live with, is having Danny take his emotions away for good.


	44. Ways 87 and 88

_Warning: Way 87 assumes a MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH has already occurred, and does talk about how it happened._

**Way 87  
>Let your family know you want to spend special time with them.<strong>

Danny had never really believed in ghosts. Oh, he believed that the memories of people could haunt you like ghosts, much like he knew the memories – or ghosts – of Steve's mother and father haunted his every waking and sleeping moment when he was in that damnable house of his.

But that had been before.

Now the house belonged to someone else, and Danny could never go there again to find two wooden chairs out back on the beach, Steve sitting in one of them and offering him a beer when he sauntered out to join him.

Life in Hawaii sucked without Steve McGarrett. To the point where Danny was seriously contemplating returning to New Jersey in spite of the fact that Grace was still in Hawaii. He never would leave Grace, of course, but everything in Hawaii reminded him of his partner, who'd never seen the bullet coming from a hidden Wo Fat's gun.

The fact that Chin and Kono had fired simultaneously and killed both Wo Fat and his second-in-command right as the bastard fired didn't really help anyone on the team all that much. Without Steve, the heart had gone out of Five-0.

Danny fucking hated his life now, except for the treasured moments with Grace.

_What the hell was that?_

Danny muted the television. He'd been sitting there in the dark with only its flickering screen as his companion, in his new-ish apartment, feeling sorry for Steve, sorry for himself, cursing life in general. That's when he'd heard the sound.

It was like someone clearing their throat. But Danny didn't see a single solitary soul _anywhere_. The apartment wasn't as small as his first one on the island, but it wasn't huge, either. Living room, kitchen, hallway, two bedrooms, one bathroom. That was it. He looked out the large front window, but nobody was outside.

He flicked on the light.

And nearly met an early grave himself, courtesy of a heart attack.

For the next thirty seconds, he just _stared_, blue eyes round as saucers.

For the subsequent thirty seconds, he forced his heart to slow down to prevent said heart attack.

Then he turned back into Danny.

"Really, Steve? _Really_? This is how you break it to me that ghosts actually exist? Huh? By scaring the ever-loving _shit_ out of me at eleven o'clock at night clearing your throat in my dark living room? How do you even have a throat to clear, you're fucking _transparent_!"

"Sorry?"

"Sorry, he says. Steven, what the actual _fuck_?"

"I'm…a ghost?"

"I sort of figured that out on my own. _Why_ are you a ghost? No, no, why are you _here_ in ghostly form? And it's been, like, six _months_! What, you had to go through Ghost Training School first? Lesson One: How to scare the piss out of your partner while he's in the midst of mourning your loss?"

"You were mourning my loss?"

"You do _not_ need to look so happy about that."

"Sorry. I didn't…you know…mean to."

"Mean to what? _Die_? Well, you _did_ die, Steven! You died and you left us without anything to hold on to, you know that?"

Transparent Ghost Steve looked suitably remorseful and Danny deflated. Christ, it wasn't Steve's fault, and here he was mouthing off to the one person he'd desperately wanted to see again more than anything. Had Danny stopped to think for a moment, he might've wondered what he was doing talking to a ghost in the first place. As it was, he didn't stop to think…as usual, where his brain-to-mouth filter was concerned.

"I'm sorry, Danny. It's…that's why I came back, in the only way I could."

Danny flapped his hand in Steve's direction. "Don't be sorry. In this particular case, it wasn't anything you did or didn't do that got you killed."

Steve looked sad.

Danny looked his see-through partner up and down and felt tears sting the back of his eyes. "I miss you, you goddamn goof."

"I'm here now. And I'm staying."

"Staying? Staying where? Here? Haunting my place?"

"Well, no, I don't have to 'stay' anywhere in particular, really. I can be wherever. I don't have to eat or sleep or anything."

"No rest or exercise, none of it?"

"Nope. I'm actually only here in soul form, I guess you could say. The image and sound of the me you knew is just to make me recognizable to you."

"So I, uh…couldn't touch you."

"I don't know what would happen if you did. They didn't explain that in Ghost Training School," Steve replied with a wry grin.

Danny moved slowly across the room. Ghost Steve's eyes never left his, and Danny manfully didn't look away, even though his insides were quaking.

Steve was dead.

And yet Steve was standing right the fuck here.

Danny stopped when he was only a foot away. He reached out and watched his hand go right through Steve's chest. He couldn't help the grunt of dismay that escaped his lips, or the way his eyes went to the floor.

"I'm sorry," Steve said quietly. "I was kind of hoping you could touch me, too."

Danny looked back up at him. "Not your fault. At least…at least you're here now."

"Yeah. And I mean it, Danny. I'm staying. I'm going to help you out. With Five-0, can you imagine me doing surveillance and not being able to get killed? Cool, huh? Keep you from being lonely—"

"I'm not lonely!"

Steve looked pointedly at the couch, the empty pizza box on the coffee table, the thousandth rerun of _The Andy Griffith Show_ in black and white on the Retro channel. Then he looked back at Danny.

"So can I stay?" Steve asked.

Danny smiled and gestured to his couch, then felt stupid knowing Steve couldn't sit, then became amazed when Steve looked like he was doing exactly that. "I can pantomime," Steve explained as Danny sat down next to him.

"This is _weird_," Danny said, unable to stop staring. "But thank you."

"Hey," Steve replied with a shrug and a smile, "I couldn't let you go for the next seventy or eighty years without hearing me say—"

"Don't!"

Steve opened his mouth.

"I mean it, Steven!"

Steve opened his mouth wider.

"I swear to God I will find a way to kill your ghostly apparitional self if you—"

"Book 'em, Danno."

Danny facepalmed. "You are going to make my life a living hell now, aren't you."

Steve looked as though he was nudging Danny's shoulder, but of course Danny couldn't feel it. "You wouldn't have it any other way. What do you think was the one thing that was strong enough to pull me out of my father's and mother's arms all the way back to here?"

For a good, long while, Danny just didn't have any more words he could think of to say. He knew he didn't need to answer that question, though he never would've believed missing or needing someone so much could actually bring them back to you. And he didn't know whether to feel guilty for yanking Post-Life Steve away from the parents he loved or not.

Steve told him 'not.' It was why it'd been six months before he returned, so he had plenty of time with his parents. He also told Danny a lot of other things. But those were secrets that Danny would take to his grave. After which, Steve promised, Danny would finally get to meet Steve's mom and dad. After which, the partners would roam the afterlife together until they decided they'd had enough and wanted to go through being human again.

Suddenly, Danny wasn't really scared of dying anymore. He couldn't touch Steve, but he could see him and hear him. And apparently, was stuck with him for eternity.

He decided that really was kind of okay.

* * *

><p><strong>Way 88<br>Fix dinner for her from time to time.**

Steve could cook, though it'd been years since he'd really put any effort into it. Hours spent by his mother's side in the kitchen where Mary had no desire to be, were some of Steve's fondest childhood memories.

And he was a menace with a gas grill, if Danny was to be believed, grinning toothily around a huge bite of medium-rare steak.

Baking cookies wasn't exactly something Steve would do on his own, but when Danny started griping about how Grace needed to bring homemade cookies to school the next day and how was it his life that _this_ was the thing Rachel decided he could be responsible for, well…Steve offered to help.

Several pounds of flour, sugar, butter and an interesting mix of spices later, not only did Steve's kitchen look like a bakery hurricane had blown through it, but they had piles and piles of snickerdoodles. And snicker is exactly what the name of those damn cookies made Danny do all night long.

Then there was the cooking over an open flame. Oh, Steve was absolutely ace at that. He could take down a wild boar and you'd be eating pulled pork sandwiches before you knew it. And while that was a little difficult to enjoy when you were stuck out in the middle of some godforsaken Hawaiian forest preserve with no cell phone capabilities, a busted satellite phone and oh, yeah, a busted ankle, Danny admitted through his haze of pain that Steve's cooked pig wasn't half bad at all.

The thing about Steve, though, was while he had mad skills in pretty much every arena of life that existed, he really never used them for his own benefit. So the fourth time that Danny took it upon himself to just waltz into Steve's house unannounced and found him trying to heat up a Hungry Man dinner in the microwave, then bitching about how rubbery the chicken tasted, well…

"You eat Hungry Man dinners?"

"Shut up."

Danny decided it was time to take matters into his own hands. He had, after all, grown up in a pretty good-sized half-Italian, half-Jewish family, so cooking went without saying. Both kosher and otherwise.

So Danny finally got his chance one night when Steve said he had to go do a thing and would be gone for a few hours. Danny happily marched up and down the aisles at the grocery store, determined to make McGarrett agree before the night was through that homemade Lasagna à la Williams was not only one of the four major food groups, it was the most delicious thing on the planet.

Well, except maybe for the apple strudel he'd be making for dessert.

Oh, Danny was _so_ excited. He hadn't had a chance to cook for anyone but Gracie in so long, and his kitchen in the old place had been so pathetically inadequate to the task of true cooking. Then there'd been all the moving around from place to place and Christ, it was kind of nice to be back at Steve's in spite of the fact that they actually didn't get along that well when it came to domesticity.

But this, right here, would ensure they got along all night long, because once Steve had a couple helpings of Ma Williams' lasagna in his belly, he wouldn't be able to move or yell about anything like Navy showers because he'd feel like he weighed a thousand pounds.

Danny hadn't been this stoked about something since the last time he took Gabby out on the town.

So about four hours later, heading towards eight p.m., Danny finally hears Steve's truck rumble up the driveway, and he can almost hear the wheels in Steve's mind whirring as he sees Danny's Camaro there and notes the front door is unlocked and the alarm not set.

The table is set just so. Hell, Danny even manages to find a couple taper candles for effect. They're in their brass holders and lit, casting a partially eerie ambience around the kitchen what with the breeze coming in through the windows and sending the flames dancing on their wicks.

The dishes are the McGarretts' best china.

The utensils are real, polished silver.

The napkins are linen.

There's even a matching tablecloth.

Crystal water glasses and wine glasses, red wine waiting to be uncorked.

"What's all this?" Steve asks.

Danny's smiling brightly, but can't help how his face falls when he sees a woman enter the kitchen behind Steve. He quickly rights his expression, though.

"Danny?"

"For you," Danny says, a nice, quick save, "and the lovely Lieutenant Rollins."

"Wow," Catherine breathes, inspecting the table and taking a whiff of the lasagna. "You didn't tell me he could cook!" she chastises her boyfriend. "This man," she continues, moving over to put an arm around a pink-cheeked Danny's shoulders, "is a keeper and then some."

"Well, have fun," Danny says with a smile that tries to be genuine and a voice that tries to go a little too high.

Steve catches him just as he reaches the Camaro. Steve spins him around and pulls him into a hug. "You can stay. You did cook, after all."

"And be a third wheel? No way, man."

Steve pulls back and looks down at his partner. "Thank you for thinking of me. I mean it. But you don't have to go."

"I can't sit here and watch you to get all…" Danny flaps his hand in the air when he runs out of words.

Suddenly the sound of another car drifts their way and Danny looks up to find a familiar vehicle pulling into Steve's driveway. He gapes openly as the car stops and someone he knows quite well gets out.

"Gabby?"

"Hi, Danny!" she smiles and waves, walks to him and squeezes his hand.

"How…what…?"

"I think I finally rendered Daniel speechless," Steve quips.

Gabby stifles a giggle.

"Come on, Cat's waiting inside. I imagine she's got the table all set for four by now."

"How did you…?" Danny tries to ask, as he takes Gabby's hand and the three of them head for the front door.

Steve just looks at him with a knowing grin on his face, claps him on the back and lets his hand stay there all the way back to the kitchen, where Catherine has indeed expanded the number of place settings and is waiting with a hug for not just Steve, but one each for Danny and Gabby as well.

Danny keeps shooting Steve puzzled looks over the next few hours, in spite of the fact that he is having an absolute blast.

Steve knows Danny will bug him incessantly about how the hell Steve knew what Danny was planning, to the point where he was even able to get Gabby to come over.

But Steve, well, he's a secretive guy, and he knows when to tell and when not to tell. He _was_ Naval Intelligence, after all.

Never mind that he overheard Danny on the phone earlier that day getting the lasagna recipe from his mother…


	45. Ways 89 and 90

**Way 89  
>Be sympathetic when she's sick.<strong>

"What the hell's the matter with you?"

"I have morning sickness, Steve."

…

"_What?_ Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Danny, you can't _get_ morning sickness."

"The hell I can't."

"You, uh…there something you're not telling me, Danno?"

"About what?"

"The fact that you can apparently get morning sickness?"

"I am way too tired for this. Leave. Me. Alone."

"No way. What are you, like, part woman?"

"What the ever-loving…Steven, what the _hell_ are you talking about?"

"It does happen to one out of a hundred men born. It's not like it's—"

"We can't possibly be having this conversation. I'm still asleep, right? Tell me you're just a nightmare."

"Danny."

"_What?_"

"Morning sickness."

"Yes, Jesus _Christ_, yes! Mornings make me sick, especially when you're coming over here at five a.m. to haul me out of bed for a goddamn _hike_, okay? _Morning sickness!_"

"Oh."

"Now, why the hell do you look so disappointed?"

"I'm _not_. Just…get up and get dressed, will you? We'll miss the sunrise."

"I've decided that you, my friend, are the one who suffers from morning sickness. Not me."

"Well, as it happens—"

"Do not _even_ go there, McGarrett. If you were born with anything other than what I was born with, I do _not_ want to know."

* * *

><p><strong>Way 90<br>Call her when you're going to be late.**

His old SEAL team is back in town, and Steve's been hitting it fast and hard for the entire four days they've been here. He's forgotten how much fun the guys can be in down time; more often than not, they were always trying to catch forty winks rather than frivolity back when they were on active duty.

He thinks he is now aware of every single bar in Honolulu, on a far too intimate level. He knows the dark circles under his eyes due to lack of sleep are unbecoming, but he'll catch up on that after they leave tomorrow.

Damn, he's missed them.

The thing of it is, Steve had friends all over the place when he was a teenager. His four best friends and more than three-quarters of his high school came to his mom's funeral. But then he was sent off to the mainland and pretty much lost touch with them in less than six months.

Guys weren't much for yapping on the phone or writing letters, after all.

For his last couple of years in school, he'd kept to himself. His heart had gone out of the things he used to love, like football. He hadn't even tried out for the team at his new school, preferring instead to immerse himself in his studies, and in doing what he had to do for acceptance at Annapolis.

Then it had been hard partying for four years, combined with long nights of studying, and while he still got emails now and then from nine of the guys he'd gone through all four years with, their careers had veered sharply. Theirs continue to take them up through the Navy ranks, while his has stalled after transferring to the Reserves.

They don't have much in common anymore than reliving the old days, and thirteen years of doing that leaves it pretty much old hat now.

So in the time Steve's been back in Hawaii, his best friends have become his teammates. He's reconnected with Mamo, but Mamo's neither of the age nor the inclination to go party. Chin did with him every time they caught a lull between cases there for a while, but now that he's got the love of his life in his bed, he understandably is less inclined to go out partying with the guys.

Steve and Kono do a lot of training together, and boy, can that woman throw a punch! He has a great time with her, but she's a beautiful woman and she's got dates up the wazoo and surfing to do, so once a week if he's lucky.

Surfing. He's met a few people doing that, too, now that he's picked it back up again. Keilani seems pretty into him, and both Bo and Stumpy (he still laughs over that nickname) meet up with him every morning for a go at the waves.

But he keeps his distance. Not because he doesn't want to form friendships that go beyond the superficial, but because of how is life is right now. In a word? Dangerous.

Steve's nothing if not realistic. Chin's life was nearly ended by Victor Hesse. Kono went through hell and back because of helping Steve steal the money to save Chin's life, all brought on by the one and only Hesse. And Danny's really a prime target, being Steve's partner. So far, for one reason or another, Wo Fat has yet to actually use that against Steve, but he's worried that it's only a matter of time before he does.

Catherine he feels pretty good about, since she's out in the middle of the ocean. Not to say that Wo Fat doesn't have the ability to get to her somehow if he really wants to, but since she's not immediately there in the vicinity, Steve figures the bastard's less likely to go after her than one of his team.

And by virtue of the fact that they're as committed to Five-0 as he is, Steve knows he can't ask any one of them _not_ to hang around with him in their off hours. But here, with his old SEAL pals, sitting on a bar stool busting Jackknife's balls over a never-forgotten moment in the desert that involved sand fleas and his briefs, Steve feels like he can let himself go for just a little while.

Because unless Wo Fat decides to just send a dozen men with Uzis to shoot the whole bar up in order to take Steve out, there isn't really any reason for him or anyone else to come after this particular group.

He wonders, when he looks up at the front door of the little hole in the wall place they've chosen for their night's festivities, whether he's hallucinating when he sees a relatively short, and very familiar, blond man scanning the single room.

He wonders, after blinking and trying to focus his eyes through the blur of too much Jack Daniels, whether he's actually passed out and is dreaming when he pinpoints the fact that the person making a beeline for him is indeed his partner.

He wonders, when Danny shoves his way into the midst of the eight current and former SEALs, all of whom tower over him and out-bulk him by half, how Danny knew where he was, why he's even here, and what sort of embarrassing rant his partner will be treating his buddies to.

But when Danny leans forward and whispers in his ear, hand squeezing his bicep so tight his nails leave marks in Steve's skin, Steve doesn't have to wonder anymore.

His team did some checking up on his Navy friends. Because they've learned to be as wary as Steve has. Because they care.

And you would think he would've learned after Bullfrog. But he didn't.

And so Danny is here to take Steve back to HQ, where at this very moment, a _kyodai_ in Wo Fat's hierarchy is sitting in the interrogation room gloating about how Steve McGarrett is about to pay the ultimate price for making a fool out of Wo Fat in North Korea.

Kono's got that bastard covered, Danny tells him, and Chin's waiting just outside the front door of the bar.

They don't know which of his friends it is, but it's one of them, at least.

Loudly enough for the others to hear, Danny says, "You didn't call, we expected you back two hours ago, McGarrett," with all the put-upon-ness that he's so good at displaying.

Steve looks each of his drinking buddies in the face, his own mind now totally sobered. "Sorry, guys. Five-0 business," he says, and stands up on surprisingly steady feet.

He doesn't want to turn his back on them, but he needs to not arouse their suspicion, because whichever one of them it is who was set to end him tonight, he wants to be able to bust so hard the motherfucker never breathes the air of freedom again as long as he lives.

As soon as they're in Chin's vehicle and booking it out of the parking lot, Chin tells him Kono just texted with which of the SEALs it was.

Jackknife.

Steve scrubs a hand down his face, takes in the concern in his partner's eyes. Grimaces when Danny says softly, "What'd I tell you about choosing your friends, babe, huh?"

He just shakes his head and resigns himself to the fact that no matter how many friends he has had over the years, there really are only a select few people he can trust anymore. Whatever it is that makes these people willing to betray Steve – money, more often than not, he supposes – to betray their country, the life they've led for so long…the one thing he's learned to be able to count on are the three people who have his back day and day out.

And then he smiles in spite of it all. Because nobody can ask for better friends than that.


	46. Ways 91 and 92

**Way 91  
>Don't disagree with her in front of the children.<strong>

"_That is not the way I told you to do it, Steven!"_

"_I disagree. I distinctly recall hearing you tell me the first step was to marinate the steak!"_

"_No. That's just when you tuned in."_

"_I'm always tuned into you!"_

"_Oh, really. So tell me, Steven, what time did I say that Rachel, Stan and Grace would be arriving?"_

"_That would be…seven?"_

"_Wrong! You are so wrong, my friend, and it just proves my point that—"_

"Ready for the debrief, guys?"

"Sure thing, Lori, what do we have?"

"Well, it looks like the Koh family's traveled in and out of Japan twice a year for the past twelve years. In fact their youngest, Chieko, was born there. The family left the country only two weeks later."

"With a two-week old infant? Rachel wouldn't even Grace out of the _house_ until she was six weeks old."

"It would appear so."

"Do they have more than the residence we know about on the big island?"

"Doesn't look that way, Steve. Although the father, Minoru, does take four other trips a year."

"Back to Japan?"

"Nope. According to all the travel records HPD could dig up from Honolulu International, he's hitting both Newark and Philadelphia, each twice a year. The trips are equidistant from the larger family ones to Japan."

"So tell me something. Why would a guy who sells shoes for a living, drag his wife and three kids halfway around the world twice a year, and then take off on his own to New Jersey – and he went up a notch in my estimation for that, by the way – and Pennsylvania, but leave them behind?"

"Because he's got something to hide?"

"That's my thinking exactly. But the behavior tells me he's not the only one who's got something to hide – get this. _Mrs._ Koh has a lunch meeting once a week with someone you know pretty well."

"Is that—?"

"Adam Noshimuri. Son of a _bitch_, I knew it."

"Well, you knew part of it. Looks like it's the wife we need to get after, not the husband."

"Dammit, why are there always kids involved?"

"Okay, Danny and I will island-hop and pay Mrs. Koh a visit. Lori, I want you to set up surveillance on Adam, and see if you can extrapolate when Koh's next trip to Japan is going to be."

"What're you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that I want to know whether his visits there coincide in any way with Joe White's. And keep it all right here, no mention of this to anyone else."

"Got it. Call me when you boys land?"

"Sure. Danny, let's go."

"—_you do not listen to anything I say unless and until I actually use your name, you know that?"_

…

"_Steven?"_

"_Yep, you're right."_

"_You are a walking, talking parody of yourself, you know that?"_

"_Wait, did you actually just pick up the conversation we were having before Lori came to debrief us at the exact same spot in mid-sentence where you left off?"_

"_Yes, I believe that's exactly what I did."_

"Now_ who's the walking, talking parody of himself?"_

"_Shut up."_

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: Damn those partners, they hijacked me again. Way 92 is now a companion piece to Way 91. OMG you two, come back here with my laptop! *facepalm* They are having <em>way_ too much fun with this…_

**Way 92  
>Take her out to dinner and for weekend getaways.<strong>

"Let me get this straight: you told me I didn't need an overnight bag, but now you want us to stay the night. Did you _forget_ about Stan, Grace and Rachel coming over for dinner?"

"Danny, it can't be helped. According to Lori, Mrs. Koh is meeting with Adam in the morning, which means I want to be here as soon as he lands so we can track his movements."

"I am _not_ wearing these clothes again tomorrow, especially if you're going to be dragging me into our customary confrontation with suspects."

"All right, come on, call Rachel and reschedule, then let's go shopping."

"I don't buy at Wal-Mart."

"You have an unnatural obsession with food and fashion."

"Food. Please, for the love of all that's holy, let's eat before you drag me to a clothing store. Some of us don't live on whole grain protein fish egg shakes."

"That's disgusting, where do you come _up_ with this stuff?"

"The same place you come up with proper procedure."

"Oh. Gotcha. Dim Sum?"

"Unless that's Chinese for 'Hey, Danno, want a burger?' then no."

"Danny, you need to live a little."

"I'm spending the weekend away from my daughter, on yet _another_ pineapple-infested island, going, apparently, to not-Wal-Mart to buy clothes with money I don't have, praying I don't get roped into eating chicken feet and raw fish for dinner, and having to spend at least part of the weekend with my partner, whom I see far too often as it is. I think I'm living way _too_ much, thank you, Steven."

"You're welcome."

"That was rhetorical, asshole."


	47. Ways 93 and 94

**Way 93  
>Do the "little things" she needs from time to time.<strong>

"It's the little things, Steven."

"The…little things."

"Yes. The little things. Like…okay, you know how I used to bitch at you constantly about procedure, and how you never follow it?"

"Yes."

"So I don't anymore. Or haven't you noticed?"

"I have."

"That's a little thing."

"I'm not following."

"Lord…okay, another example. You know how I hate that you Hawaiians put pineapple on everything."

"Yes."

"And yet when I pulled back the tarp and found an entire _truck_load of pineapples, did I raise a stink?"

"No, but that could've been because there was a dead body in with them."

"Oh, God, this is…you are an impossible man."

"One more example?"

"Sure, fine, okay, hey, I'm willing to help a guy out, after all. Let's see…all right, here's a good one: I don't wear a tie anymore. Unless it's a special formal occasion, of course."

…

"You're blanking, aren't you?"

"Well, not really. I'm just not sure the message I'm receiving is the one you're actually sending, Danno."

"Why don't you tell me what you've got, and we'll go from there."

"Well…okay. It sounds to me like you want to have a nice, quiet conversation, then you want me to take you to dinner, and then you want to get out of your clothes."

…

"Danny?"

"That is what you got from my attempts to demonstrate to you what 'the little things' are? That I want some hot and heavy with _you_?"

"I told you it probably wasn't right."

"Oh, stop pouting. I can handle some conversation and dinner, if that's where you want to go with this."

"And the clothes?"

"McGarrett, you couldn't handle full-on Danny Williams without clothes. Trust me on this."

"So _that's_ why you won't go swimming with me! It _is_ the little things!"

"If you use the word 'little' to describe anything having to do with my person ever again, I will brain you."

"Dinner it is, then."

"And conversation. _Not_ about the Yakuza or Joe White or Wo Fat or that infernal Champ box, for the love of all that's holy."

"And then swimming."

"Where'd you…what made you think I've agreed to go swimming with you? Pray, do divulge, what tells did I not mean to give that made you think I wanted to get half-naked with you and jump into the jellyfish-infested waters around this godforsaken island, McGarrett?"

"It's the little things, Danno. It's the little things."

* * *

><p><strong>Way 94<br>Give her special time alone with her friends.**

On a Tuesday, Danny saw Steve and Kono leave HQ together.

The next day, he heard all about their adventures on the Pipeline.

On a Friday, Danny saw Chin and Steve arrive at work together in the morning.

That evening, he heard about how Malia had borrowed Chin's car because hers was in the shop, and Steve had given Chin a ride in.

On a Saturday, Danny had gone to McGarrett's place unannounced with a six-pack of Longboards in one hand, and a pizza in the other. Only to pull right back out of the driveway when he saw the face of one Catherine Rollins in an upstairs window.

The next night, Steve called and invited him over.

"You didn't have to leave yesterday," he said easily as he opened the door to let Danny in.

"I don't do well at the third wheel thing," Danny told him, handing him a beer.

"And you know, if you didn't hate the beach so much, I would've invited you to go with me and Kono."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't have said no. Maybe."

"Really? Next time maybe I'll ask, then. And Chin called me to ask for a ride yesterday morning since I'm closer to his and Malia's new house than your new apartment is. Otherwise I'm sure he would've called you."

"What is this, what are you trying to do with all this? I don't have a problem with any of that."

Steve looks at Danny for enough time that Danny starts to squirm a little under the scrutiny.

"You're allowed to have time with your friends outside of what we do."

"Danny."

"I mean, after all, it's not like we actually _are_ married, or joined at the hip or anything, and in spite of how some people portray cops and partnerships, it's not like we _really_ want to spend every off-duty moment together, right?"

"Danny."

"And just because I'm the pathetic one who doesn't have any friends on this fucking island other than my team, which means that since we don't want to spend all our off-duty time together I really don't have anything to do or anyone to hang out with when we're off the clock, doesn't mean that the rest of you who grew up here don't have friends, lives, wives—"

"Danny!"

"_What?_"

"You're hanging out with a friend right now, if you'd shut up long enough to start enjoying it."

"Oh…I…am, aren't I?"

"Why do you think I invited you over?"

"Pity?"

"Danny, there are many things I feel about you. Pity is not one of them."

"Many things, huh?"

"_Many_ things."

"Okay, then. How about we get started on that list? Tell me the first thing you feel about me."

"Don't make me regret inviting you over."

"You won't regret one minute of my company. I promise you. Now, come on. Thing One."

"You annoy the shit out of me."

"Perfect! You _love_ me! Second? Uh, Steven? Why are you wearing Constipation Face Number Four…?"


	48. Ways 95 and 96

**Way 95  
>Buy her what she considers an intimate gift.<strong>

Okay, Danny's one to strut. It's actually kind of funny to Steve how his chest puffs out and his swagger intensifies like he's the son of some tough guy he's trying to imitate or something, and how his accent becomes more pronounced when he's proud of himself. It reminds Steve of the peacocks he'd seen on a field trip to the Honolulu Zoo in the third grade.

So when Danny peacocks himself into the bullpen at eight on the dot Monday morning, and he's got a couple buttons unbuttoned and his sleeves rolled up and looks for all the world like the cat that ate the canary, well, Steve knows for sure Danny is aware of the gift.

See, Steve, he's a giving sort of guy. He's always buying things for his friends because let's face it, who else does he have to spend his father's life insurance money and those years of Navy pay he's accumulated on?

It's why, after knowing him for such a short time, Steve had gotten Danny and Grace some time with the dolphins. Why Steve usually pays when the team goes out. Okay, if he remembers his wallet, he's got other things on his mind, all right?

It's why Chin gets some new tech gadget for his birthday every year, something he's been salivating over but is too proud to admit he can't afford.

It's why Kono finds a brand-new custom-made surfboard for the first birthday she has after the formation of Five-0, and why she finds tickets to Australia for her and Ben, so they can compete in the Bruny Island Classic in Tasmania a month later.

Steve isn't sure his ears have stopped ringing after the girly squeal – which Kono later denies, of course – she lets out when she opens the envelope.

And for Danny's birthday he's gotten him various and sundry things of use to a single guy. Things like magazine subscriptions so he's got something to look at in the john, Hawaiian slippers and other appropriate attire (which he has yet to see Danny wear, dammit) and the CD set Bon Jovi Hits – The Ultimate Collection.

He thought Danny might just pop on the spot from that one.

But this, this is something he's never done before. He watches Danny very nearly prance around the computer table – though he'll never use that word to his face to describe this particular walk – and stop to exchange happiness with first Kono, and then Chin. Danny jokes around with Lori for a while until he turns and happens to catch Steve watching him from his glass-encased office.

Danny gets a particularly bright gleam in his eyes, and an equally bright smile on his face. He excuses himself from Lori, who watches him go wistfully and really, Steve wonders, is she just after anything with a third leg or does she want them both at the same time?

Now there's a thought he's not considered before.

Anyway, he shakes his head a bit to clear _that_ image away, and finds Danny standing on the other side of his desk rocking back and forth on his feet like a kid who's seriously beside himself that he's on his way to Disneyland.

Well, maybe for Danny, what Steve got _is_ like going to Disneyland.

"So," Danny says, grin still wide, "I get a call from my little girl this morning, bright and early, and before I can even wish her a Happy Ninth Birthday, you know what she says to me?"

"I don't know, Danny," Steve says, playing the role of Innocent to the hilt.

"She says, young Grace, that she has a mysterious present that showed up overnight, slid under the front door, that the maid brought it to Rachel, who then inspected it for safety reasons and subsequently brought it to Grace before she was even out of bed."

"A mysterious present, you say."

"Indeed, and so of course, Rachel is standing by as Grace opens the envelope, and she's nine, so it takes her half a second to not only read the papers inside, but to put two and two together and figure out what they mean. And Steven, do you _know_ what those papers were?"

Steve is beside himself, facial muscles aching from forcing himself not to grin. "I'm sure you'll enlighten me."

"Someone bought two airline tickets and paid for an entire eight-day and seven-night vacation to _Newark_. That's in _New Jersey_, my friend, and there's a handwritten note on a yellow post-it which Grace read to me. Know what that says, Steven?"

"Do tell."

"The note says, "I thought it was time you got to see your family," that's what the note says, and Grace is squealing so loud Rachel can barely hear herself think, and the first thing my baby girl does is call me up to tell me we're going to _New Jersey_ in May! What do you think of that, huh, Steven?"

"So who got Grace the gift?"

"Rachel doesn't have a clue where it came from. Stan pleads innocent, the staff knows nothing about it, and you know what, I don't even care. I get to go _home_ with my little girl!"

Steve smiles at his friend, and doesn't really care that Danny hasn't glommed on to who actually left the gift for him and Grace, but there's one little thing he can't let slide, and so as Danny beams and beams like little rays of sunshine are shooting out of every pore, Steve clears his throat to get his partner's attention.

"Actually," Steve says, very seriously indeed, "the note said, "I thought it was time you and your dad got to see your family," if I'm not mistaken."

Danny stops rocking back and forth on his feet.

In fact, Danny stops moving completely.

He stares at Steve for a few beats.

And if Steve's not mistaken, Danny's eyes might water just a little.

"Thank you."

Steve's smile feels like it's coming up from his toes as he says, "You're welcome." But then Danny just stands there, and it's starting to make Steve feel a little itchy how he's just staring at him, so finally he gets to his feet abruptly and says, "Shouldn't we be running down those leads we have in the Cosmeyer case?"

"Right," Danny answers quickly, his face flushing a bit, Steve notes with satisfaction.

Poor Danny. He can dish it out, but when push comes to shove and someone actually does something _nice_ for him, something that some thought was put into, he's rendered practically speechless.

It's no small stretch to say now you know why Steve keeps getting him things…

* * *

><p><strong>Way 96<br>Read a book she recommends to you.  
><strong>

Steve did not think it was funny when he found the HPD procedure manual stuffed into his Christmas stocking at work.

He also did not find it amusing when he found yet another copy of it lying on his pillow one night.

Nor when he found it on the passenger seat of his truck.

Nor on the hood of the Marquis.

Nor on the kitchen counter.

Nor inside the refrigerator next to the eggs.

He also wasn't amused to find a copy of the damn thing on his desk at work, another in the break room, and yet another in PDF format in his email inbox.

Steve scowled as he picked the next copy of the same damn manual up out of his desk chair, and made to hurl it into the garbage.

He looked up, and saw Danny watching him.

He huffed out a breath, sat down in the chair, and thumped the manual down on his desk.

Out of sheer curiosity – and probably some sort of death wish courtesy of Danny's inability to let _anything_ go, let alone Steve reading a procedure manual – Steve flipped the thing open.

Two hours later, he turned the final page and closed the book.

"Lunch?" Danny asked, startling him from the doorway of his office.

"Sure," Steve replied, trying to hide the manual under a stack of papers.

"There'll be a quiz after I stuff you full of Italian," Danny advised as they moved out of the office.

"Danny, I didn't memorize the thing."

"You don't have to, Steve. You just have to retain a little of it. I'm here to know it backwards and forwards for you."

"So why'd you want me to read it if you're the HPD Bible on your own and don't expect me to remember any of it?"

"It's the principle of the thing," Danny explained.

"Fine," Steve groused good-naturedly.

"I expect to see the Navy SEAL training manual on my desk tomorrow morning."

"There is no such thing. They don't keep that written anywhere where it can be found. It's all in my head."

Danny smiled at him across the roof of the Camaro. "Exactly," he said.

When Steve caught on, and pictured himself seated atop Danny's desk first thing tomorrow morning ready to spout off some basic SEAL directives, he couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"You can even test me on it later," Danny offered as they got into the car.

Steve nearly cackled with glee. He wondered if Danny knew that the test for _that_ particular manual was called Hell Week…


	49. Ways 97 and 98

_Author's Note: Way 97 is definitely Alternative Universe (AU) and could also be considered a bit of crackfic, depending on how you feel about magic…_

**Way 97  
>Give her engraved plaque assuring her of your lasting love.<strong>

He found himself weeping when the page advised that Princess Grace had been transported to a strange and faraway land, courtesy of the evil witch he'd once been married to. He wept for the loss of his child, of the one he knew would someday rule the Kingdom of Jers. All the Jerseys in the land adored the little girl who roamed the castle's halls with her magic wand and the crown of the privileged. But somehow the witch had seen fit to take her to a land known only as Homeland to its natives, which King Daniel soon discovered wore only the barest of coverings made of grass and palm fronds and something called coconut shells.

He did not know what these coconuts were.

He also was advised by his most trusted members of court that the diet of these Homelanders consisted mainly of something called pineapple, which an emissary from across the seas brought for him to try. It made his mouth itch, and he declared it to be a dangerous and illegal fruit in his kingdom.

Try as they might, King Daniel's army could not take the island of Homeland by force, their ships being sunk before they could reach its white sandy shores. And the witch, with her new warlock husband, could not be persuaded to return the princess to her rightful place of birth, where her people prayed hourly for her safe return.

And so King Daniel himself began the long and arduous journey to this Homeland. By sheer force of his will and his ability to follow the protocols for war that he himself had penned, his ship and one other managed to make it to a secluded cove and onto its quiet shores. As King Daniel stood upon the beach and looked ahead, he was surprised by the elaborate homestead before him.

It was pristine white, even whiter than the sand or the heated rays of the sun. It was open and airy, and scented flowers surrounded it. Surely a princess must live here, he thought to himself, to be surrounded by such light, such beauty.

It was therefore with no small amount of surprise that the 'princess' he'd been envisioning was nothing of the sort.

A tall man, dark of hair and eyes, skin browned by the ever-present sun of Homeland, emerged from the back of the abode – a miniature castle, really – clad in only what seemed to present itself as underwear. The king shielded his eyes, for such presentation of miles of skin, skin cover by strange _writing_, no less, was untoward in the land from which he hailed.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of a king upon my shores?" the dark stranger asked.

"I am King Daniel of Jers, and I have come to take my daughter, the beautiful and perfect and shining Princess Grace, back from the clutches of her mother, the evil witch."

"Then King Daniel, perhaps I may of some assistance, for I am the most elite and highly trained commander of the army which belongs to the King of Hawai'i."

"What is this strange word you use, good sir? Hawai'i? I was told this place was called Homeland."

"In your language, that is the word. But our population calls it by the native word of Hawai'i. Pray tell, where is the Princess Grace being held?"

And that was how the king and the commander partnered, leading all the king's men and all the commander's troops to storm the well-fortified castle where Princess Grace was being held captive by the witch and the warlock.

But because the commander played by his own rules, and did not listen to the king's explanations of the proper way to lay siege to such a fortress, the partners were separated. And when, at last, King Daniel held Princess Grace in his arms, many men from both armies were felled, and the commander whose name King Daniel did not even know, could not be found.

King Daniel managed to spirit Princess Grace away from the ruined fortress and into the deep, canopied forest of the place called Hawai'I, but soon he was hopelessly lost, for in the Kingdom of Jers there are no such lengthy groves of trees and plants, but instead fortress upon fortress, home upon home, and his castle at the peak of it all.

After hours of wandering, and of Princess Grace's beautiful dress being torn to shreds by plants which seemed to purposely grab for them as they pushed by, King Daniel happened upon a wall of rock, upon which he found pictures had been carved.

He observed the first engraved image, which depicted a man wearing a crown upon his head shaking hands with a man wearing nothing but some form of underwear. The underwear-clad man had strange markings on his arms, and was taller than the crowned man.

King Daniel knew this to be himself and the commander.

The next picture in line was a carving of the fortress from which King Daniel and the commander, and all their men, had retrieved young Princess Grace.

And the third, was an image of the princess herself.

The next line down showed a carving that King Daniel thought must represent the jungle in which he and the princess found themselves, and then came another carving of the commander, only this time he seemed to be floating above the ground, his arms widespread, and rays of something emanating from his body.

King Daniel frowned. He did not understand this final graven image, nor what it was supposed to tell him. Had the commander come to this place and chiseled the story into the rock? It would have had to be since they had met, and that was impossible because they had been together the entire time, until separated at the witch's fortress.

And the carvings appeared to be old, the edges of each etched image smoothed by time. If that were the case, who had carved these, and when? And why? And did they mean anything, or was it all simply a red herring meant to confuse the king and the princess?

Suddenly the final image of the commander with outstretched arms began to glow. Princess Grace and King Daniel stared as it pulsed and glowed even brighter and then, with magic such as the king had not seen since his own brother Prince Matthew had graced him with a performance in the court, the tiny figure pushed away from the rock and was floating in the air before him.

"What are you?" King Daniel asked, resisting the urge to scream and run like a girl.

"I was once the commander of all the armies of the King of Hawai'i," the tiny floating figure – who looked exactly like the life-sized one King Daniel had met – explained. "But the evil witch discovered I knew she wished to seize control of the island, and put a spell on me, trapping me within this petroglyph for twenty-two of every twenty-four hours."

"But you were at the large white home on the beach. We launched an attack against the witch and warlock and were successful. You see, I have my Princess Grace with me as proof!"

"The two hours you spent with me were the two hours of the last twenty-four. I know now why I was destined to be there, to help you and guide you to this place, so you could see this was all part of a legend that foretold of these events."

"Your story is all well and good, Commander, but the princess and I have lost our way and will die in this insect-infested hellhole if we do not find our way to civilization."

Right before the king's and princess's eyes, the tiny figure grew and grew and grew until at last he was standing before them at his full height, wearing – once again – nothing but those strange underwear with a small string tying them to his waist.

"It is through your efforts to rescue this beautiful princess, and your trust in me – a stranger to you – that the witch's spell has been broken. You, King Daniel, have saved my life as these petroglyphs foretold, a tale of love and selflessness, and I wish to do something in return for your making the dream come true."

"I don't know about tales of love, but you may lead us from this place and back to our ships, so that we may set sail for home at once. The Jerseys pine for their princess and for her safe return."

"Perhaps I might persuade you to remain here," the commander said, his face arranged in such a way that King Daniel could not decipher its meaning, and wondered how many faces the man could make. "Now that I am freed, I will defeat the witch's henchmen who have taken over the king's army, and free the king himself. And I could use a partner by my side to clean up the corruption and evil influence left by the witch."

"I have my own kingdom," King Daniel replied, though he felt sad at the thought of leaving this man here on his own. "And the princess and I have subjects who wait for our return. As much as I would like to help you, I am afraid I cannot."

And so with an air of sadness, the commander led the king and the princess and what was left of the king's men back to the ships on the shores of his home. King Daniel and Princess Grace stood at the stern of the ship watching the lone dark figure upon the pristine shores grow smaller and smaller. And with each row of oar that took the ships further out to sea, the king found his heart felt smaller and smaller, too.

"Daddy," the princess said, looking up at him with tears in her eyes, "surely we do not have to return to Jers."

"But what of our subjects?"

"Uncle Matty has wished to rule the Kingdom of Jers his whole life, Daddy. I think the commander needs us more than Jers does."

King Daniel looked once more at the man who was now but a speck on the beach, who hadn't moved at all since the ships departed. Perhaps his daughter was right. After all, she was brilliant and kind and good and had been known to outthink her father on many matters of State.

"Do you really think we can do good here, as much good as we could do on the throne of Jers?" he asked his child.

She smiled brightly and nodded. "I think we can do more good here, Daddy. If the evil witch and warlock did not die in battle, we are leaving the commander with a problem which was ours to begin with, halfway around the world, and that's not really fair."

"Then," King Daniel proclaimed, "we will remain upon the island called Hawai'i until such time as the witch and warlock have been vanquished, and the people are safe to roam the lands free of the fear of her tyranny." King Daniel turned to address his oarsmen. "Reverse course immediately! We are returning to the island!"

The men all cheered, for who would not like the paradise of this Hawai'i better than the overpopulated Kingdom of Jers?

King Daniel was not so certain he would grow to love the sun and the waters and the rainbows and the pineapple, but he knew that as long as he and Princess Grace were working with, and protected by, the magical commander who had once been a petroglyph, he would be able to tolerate it.

He would not, however, consent to wearing the same clothing as the islanders. There were only so many concessions a man could make, after all.

* * *

><p><strong>Way 98<br>Write her a poem about how special she is.**

Steve frowned. He frowned so damn hard he thought his forehead _might_ just stick that way.

Because sitting on top of his keyboard this morning there had been a folded piece of notebook paper, and when he'd opened it up, he found it contained a little poem.

_Roses are red, violets are blue,  
>Batman's a hero, and so are you!<em>

It was these two lines precisely that had him frowning so deeply.

Chin walked into Steve's office looking a little dazed. In his hand he held a piece of paper very similar to Steve's own. He handed it over and Steve's frown, if even possible, grew _deeper_.

Chin's said:

_Roses are red, violets are blue,  
>It's really amazing, what you do!<em>

In came Kono, and Steve didn't even have to ask. She thrust a piece of paper into his hand. He opened it and read it.

_Roses are red, violets are blue,  
>There is no other surfer in Hawaii like you!<em>

Kono was pleased.

Steve and Chin were frowning.

"Where's Danny?" Chin asked.

"Don't know, haven't seen him this morning," Kono replied.

And like they'd talked him up out of thin air, Danny Williams came into the office whistling a tune none of them could identify ("Probably Bon Jovi," Steve had said.). He went into the office and emerged seconds later with his face a little bit red and a lot annoyed.

"What the hell is this?" he asked as he pushed open the door to Steve's office. That's when he noticed all the other pieces of paper on Steve's desk. Steve snatched the one out of Danny's hand, ignoring his protesting, "Hey!" and read it.

_Roses are red, pineapple's yellow,  
>I'm really glad this place made you mellow.<em>

By this time, Danny had read the other little poems and grew even more incensed. "You get violets, I get pineapple? What gives?"

"Who wrote them?" Chin asked.

"I don't recognize the handwriting," Steve said, peering at all four papers now lying open before him.

The team puzzled and puzzled throughout the day. They checked video surveillance of the entirety of the palace grounds, inside and out, since the last one of them had been in Five-0's headquarters yesterday. "I got bupkus," Danny informed them after watching the last few minutes of the final feed.

They interviewed every single officer and government employee who'd been in the building since the last of them had left yesterday, also, including the janitorial staff. "Nothing," Kono announced.

At last the end of the day came, and without any actual active cases to work on for the governor, and with far too much annoyance to want to look into it any further at the moment, the four Five-0'ers left for the day, headed for some stiff drinks at a nearby bar.

They figured maybe if they got drunk, they'd figure out who the poem fairy was.

Steve, though, he was a sly one. He had an idea about the whole thing, and decided to beg off early after consuming only one beer, stating he had forgotten to go 'do a thing' for a friend. The other three team members were already a few sheets to the wind, so they waved him off without worrying too much about it.

Steve headed back to their headquarters, unlocked the main office doors and strolled in. He quickly fiddled with a control panel inside his office, which had the effect of looping the bullpen cameras so that they wouldn't see what he was doing.

Quietly he went around to each of the four offices and placed four folded pieces of notebook paper from one of his pants pockets on each desk, then fiddled with the panel in his office again before leaving for the night.

Nobody would have to know they were from him.

Or, more precisely, that they were from Grace and only _written_ by him.

Because once Grace got her Uncle Steve's cell phone number, and once she'd extracted a promise from anyone – even a stalwart Navy guy like Steve McGarrett – there really was little to be done other than follow the orders he'd been given.

He was really good at following orders, after all…and Commander Grace had spoken.

Steve couldn't wait to see the looks on the rest of his team's faces tomorrow morning when he, Chin, Kono and Danny read:

_Roses are red, violets are blue,  
>Danno is cool, but you are, too!<em>

_Roses are red, violets are blue,  
>Malia's real pretty, lucky you!<em>

_Roses are red, violets are blue,  
>Girls kick butt, and boys sniff glue!<em>

_Roses are red, the ocean is nice,  
>Go swimming with Steve; take my advice!<em>

Well, Steve _may_ have had a hand in that last one…


	50. Ways 99 and 100

_Author's Note 1: It turns out the list on the website I copied these 100 Ways from only had 98 items. They were mis-numbered there. So I added a #99 and #100 of my own. Enjoy these last two Ways, everyone, and thank you for sticking with me through them all!_

_Author's Note 2: Way 99 makes reference to events from Season 2 Episode 14 "Pu'olo."_

**Way 99  
>Be willing to show her you have emotions, too.<strong>

Steve gets his thousand-yard stare going, and it's like nothing can get through to him.

Not facts about their current case.

Not Danny's rants about this, that or the other thing that's on his mind.

Not even mention of Catherine.

Because when it comes right down to it, Steve's got way too much on his mind these days, and it sometimes makes it a little hard to climb _out_ of the pool of his own thoughts. His mind is like a steel trap; once it grabs hold of something and decides it wants to keep it, Steve just can't pry his brain off the thought at hand.

It really sucks sometimes, especially when your partner starts giving you odd looks like you've gone off the deep end as he always suspected you would.

It also really sucks if it means you get caught with your pants down – figuratively, thank God, rather than literally – and the guy you're supposed to be tailing gets a good head start on you.

Which results in your partner punching you in the bicep, and just…ow.

So they go on one of their typical car chases, the Camaro cornering like a dream as usual, and in the end they roll to a stop with Danny out of the car and shooting before Steve even gets the thing in Park.

They catch the guy.

They save the day.

They go home.

And Steve's left alone with that thought his mind won't let go of.

_Was he telling me the truth?_ he keeps asking over and over again now that Joe's gone.

_Did he lie to me just to keep his word to my father?_

_What if Shelburne is a real person and not a made-up figure to confuse the Yakuza?_

_What if Joe just wants to drop out of sight, get off the radar, to protect himself and me and whoever or whatever Shelburne is?_

_What if I've just let the only clue to the real truth behind my father's investigation fly out of my life forever?_

The thing is, Steve can hide what he's feeling pretty darn well, and all things considered, none of this is really the end of the world. He's helped make peace with Adam Noshimuri, and he's resting assured now that Joe truly didn't kill Hiro. Things went well, except that Joe's gone.

In some weird way, it's like losing his father all over again, so it's difficult to keep the emotion out of his eyes when Danny strolls into his house like he always does, walks up to him and just looks at him.

Steve tries that thousand-yard stare again, but he can see in Danny's face it's not working.

So when Danny holds his arms open wide, and tilts his head a little to the side in invitation, Steve just goes.

He doesn't have to say anything; that's not how they roll, anyway.

But he doesn't have to hide his emotions from his partner. He can just let Danny soak them up through the fabric of their shirts as they hug, until his mind is at ease.

At last.

It's funny how the man who uses words like weapons knows when he doesn't need them at all.

* * *

><p><em>Warning: Way 100 assumes two MAJOR CHARACTER DEATHS have already occurred.<em>

**Way 100  
><strong>**Abide by her wishes about things important to her.**

It shouldn't have happened this way.

Neither of them should be gone.

But they are.

Kono feels a tear trickle out of her eye. Then one from the other eye. Before she knows it, they're streaming down her face, the two pieces of paper in her hand fluttering to the floor as the torrent of emotions consumes her.

She feels a hand on her shoulder, looks up to find tear-filled eyes looking back at her.

Chin is here.

He can make it all better somehow. He always has, ever since she was a little girl.

But no. The look on his face says this time, he can't.

He stoops to pick the papers up off the floor.

"It's," she hiccups and puts a hand over her mouth. "Their final wishes."

"I didn't know they wrote them out for themselves."

She shakes her head. "They didn't. They wrote them out for each _other_."

Chin frowns, leans back against the large computer table, and reads the first letter, from Steve.

_Hey, guys,_

_I figure there's no way Danny's updated his will, no matter how many times he's said he should with me as a partner. But if something ever happens to us – trust me on this, I know we'll go at the same time – do me a favor._

_Look after Grace. Make sure she never forgets her Danno, and how much he loved her._

_Look after yourselves. Danny's always been convinced the pipeline would do you in, Kono, and that one of your computer gadgets would take control of your mind someday, Chin._

_His family's going to want his body returned to New Jersey, I know they are. But I also know for sure he asked to be cremated. So keep a little bit of him behind for me, and scatter those ashes in the water behind my place._

_Something tells me he won't really mind and hey, even if he does, I'm the one he's going to come after._

_Thank you to both of you. For everything._

_Steven J. McGarrett  
>Lieutenant Commander, United States Naval Reserves<br>December 22, 2011_

Chin looks up at Kono, who's managed to stifle her tears for the most part, then holds the other piece of paper up to read.

_Oh, my God, he got me killed, didn't he. That's the _only_ reason you're reading this right now. Don't worry, he'll get his in the Hereafter._

_There's a couple things I want to make sure you do for Steve, because he's the kind of guy without the foresight to plan this stuff for himself, you know what I'm saying, right? I know I can count on you two for this._

_Chin, make sure nobody forgets his name. That man was a legend in the making, and if I'm right about he usually operates, he probably died like legends do, too. Never mind the sidekick who just happens to be standing too close._

_Kono, get them to name some surfing competition after him or something, will you? The man could ride a wave like nobody's business and yeah, I know enough about surfing to know he was pretty damn good._

_Please look after my daughter. Don't let her forget her Danno._

_And, you know, being the leave-no-mark-behind kind of guy he was, Steve probably wanted to be cremated. I figure he most likely wants to be scattered out over the water somewhere around this island he kept trying to force me to love._

_Well, there was one thing about this island that I think _he_ loves more than anything else, and that's his home. So even if he wanted to be scattered over the Arizona or something, do me a favor: keep a little bit of his ashes aside and let them go in the water behind his house, will you?_

_Something tells me he'd want it that way._

_You two, take care of each other. And make sure they spell my name right in the Obits._

_Love,  
>Danny<em>

Chin looks up at Kono. She nods, a small smile on her face. He does the same. Without a word they walk out of Five-0 headquarters, the eerie silence they leave behind telling the tale of the brothers who will darken its halls and rooms no more.

* * *

><p><em>Two days later…<em>

Chin Ho Kelly places his HPD uniform hat on his head and pulls it down until it's snug. Kono straightens her dress blues and holds out a hand to him.

He gives her a small Hawaiian-made exotic wood urn, while he keeps a second one. They aren't any bigger than eggs, but they are large enough to carry out the partners' final wishes for each other.

Chin looks down at his bare feet, and his uniform pants that are rolled all the way up to above his knees. He notes Kono's are the same. They move as one, Chin chanting a Hawaiian blessing quietly as they wade further into the water behind the McGarrett home.

When the blessing is complete, Chin and Kono uncork the urns and let the last of the ashes of Steve McGarrett and Danny Williams scatter into the breeze and melt into the water. As the last of the dust trails away, less than a mile offshore, a humpback whale sails out of the water and slaps back down, creating waves that quickly reach their legs.

Just as the whale's tail rises out of the water to give it a mighty slap, overhead a seagull swoops in, seems to hover over the whale, and then starts squawking madly at it when the spray of water it creates actually gets the bird wet.

Kono bursts out laughing and Chin grins from ear to ear.

Maybe the whale isn't Steve, and maybe the seagull isn't Danny.

But if you can laugh when you've just let go of the most trusted friends you've ever had, then it's the best you can hope for.

"Good-bye, Steve," Kono says, her voice breaking. "Good-bye, Danny."

"_A hui hou kakou,_" Chin whispers. "Until we meet again."

The cousins watch the whale and the seagull continue their battle until they fade into the horizon. It is a tale that soon becomes Legend on Oahu, the names of two fallen heroes never forgotten as each generation passes it on.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Shameless Self-Promotion Alert<strong>: As this 100 Ways draws to a close, I want to let you know that my published original novel "TAKERS" is now available on Smashwords so you can download it/view it in many different formats if you don't have an Amazon Kindle. Just go to smashwords dot com and search for Takers and you should find it, by Chris Davis (that's me!). It at least gives everyone the opportunity to read it! And I really hope you enjoy it. (If you're someone who prefers hard copies of books, you can always download a PDF, RTF or similar format and print it, too.)_


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